A Divine Work
by imprimatur13
Summary: Kayneth summons a Servant, but she's not the one he was hoping for. Was she, perhaps, the Servant he deserved? The ramifications of this, that flow out like ripples on a pond struck by a rock, will change the face of the 4th Holy Grail War. This is a large crossover, so spoilers for: Persona 4, Fate/Zero, Kara no Kyoukai, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Tsukihime.
1. The Pride of the Archibalds

Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald sniffed the musty air of his workshop. He looked around at the tables laden with beakers, at the bookshelves containing fraying volumes written in the oldest languages of man, and finally - at the summoning circle drawn on the ground. Yes, his student - what was his name? - had done an acceptable job with that, and though he felt there was room for improvement, he could address those areas ad hoc.

His gaze shifted to one table in particular, and to the red box upon it. He walked over to it, and touched its finely grained wooden exterior. The grooves his hands traced on the box only served to whet his anticipation. He pronounced a spell - aperire, mei capsula - and the golden lock on the box unlatched itself. As the box opened before him, he felt he could sense the magical energy emanating from its contents.

He allowed it to open fully before putting his hand inside, removing the faded, slightly torn cloth. He was struck by the purity of its crimson hue, and then reminded himself that it was so, so much more than just a cloth. For this was an ancient artifact, once worn by the King of Conquerors himself, Alexander son of Philip, of Macedon; and he knew that with this, his victory over - and humiliation of - his enemies in the Fourth Holy Grail War was assured.

Filled with excitement at what would surely come, he placed the cloth on the prepared pedestal, and inspected the summoning circle drawn in mercury on the floor. While there were some imperfections, he felt that those would be insufficient to get in the way of the ritual, due to the sheer power of the artifact, as well as his own prodigious magical abilities. The only way to be assured of perfection in the work would have been to do it himself, but he was far too busy making the arrangements for delivery of the artifact. Let the menial tasks be left to those low persons suited for them, and nothing else. A smile fills his face, as he considers the Servant who will soon be his. He had spent some time researching Alexander, so as to be fully aware of his personality in life, as well as the nature of his Noble Phantasm, so that he would be able to use him most effectively. What he learned was somewhat impressive, but Kayneth knew that by the time this war was over, his own accomplishments will have dwarfed even the greatest empires of history.

"Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill," he said. As he did so, he held his arm out before him, above the circle. His eyes were closed, his voice perfectly controlled as the words came out. "As each is filled, let it be destroyed." The room began to hum with magical energy. "Let silver and steel be the essence. Upon it rests the cornerstone and the Archduke of Contracts. Become the wall that repels the gale." Kayneth felt a breeze whipping his face, smirked, and continued. "The four gates close tightly. Burst forth from the Crown, and follow the winding road to the Kingdom!" A light so bright penetrated his eyes, forcing them open. He saw the circle emitting a radiance like nothing else he had ever seen. Yes, this was his luminescence; the light created by his power and will. "I call to thee! Thy body, formed of my will; thy sword, enforcing my fate! An thou bend to my will, and my justice, heed the grail's call and answer me! I swear before thee; I shall become all that is good in the world, and destroy all that is evil. Seven Heavens, clad in the Three Holy Souls, cast aside your shackles and come forth; O Guardian of the Scales!"

He was blinded by the light, now. Still, the smirk remained.

The light died down, and the dust cloud cleared. As Kayneth struggled to adjust his eyes to the dark room, he could barely make out a human form in the circle, cloaked in red.

"Greetings, Iskandar," he said. "I have summoned you to this era to do battle on my behalf, as my Servant; rejoice, for you have a Master more than worthy of your immense power. Whatever your desires for the Grail may be, consider them granted. Come, let us crush those who would stand against us-"

"I do not know this 'Iskandar' of whom you speak, but I ask you: Are you my Master?" said the female Servant.

Kayneth was taken aback, and as his eyes focused, he could see that the Servant before him was certainly not Iskandar, King of Conquerors; nor, for that matter, any other King. He didn't know who she was, and he was in severe distress at this, but he was too mature to allow it to faze him. It was at least apparent to him that she was of the Caster class, and possessed of decent magical ability; perhaps this would be salvageable after all.

"Yes, I am, girl. I command thee answer me; what is thy name?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You summoned me, using my own relic, yet you do not know my name?"

He knew now that the cloth was not, in fact, Iskandar's ancient cloak; the matter of his deception would have to be pursued later. A cruel fate awaited whoever was responsible, but meanwhile: "Servant, I have commanded you!" he shouted.

She turned her head away from him for a moment; he would have chastised her for this as well, had she not said anything. "I see." She again faced him. "I am Yukiko Amagi, of the Caster class. My Noble Phantasms are Yata no Kagami, Yasakani no Magatama, and Kusanagi no Tsurugi." She paused for a moment, then added, "By any chance, Master, were you perhaps expecting another Serv-"

"Quiet, Servant. I need to think, and I can't have your voice annoying me forever."

Yukiko put her finger on her lip, and tilted her head to the side. As Kayneth was lost in thought, his back turned to her, she began walking toward the altar on which the summoning relic was placed. As she neared it, he must have noticed the sound of her footsteps, and looked up.

"Be still, lowly Servant!" he shouted. "You are not to move nor to speak without my express command. Or shall I use the full extent of my powers to torture you; command you to kill yourself in the cruelest of ways? I have been given these three Command Spells, and even a Caster class Servant cannot disobey them. Dirty little rat. I can assure you; after your unsightly presence is removed from my sight, I will summon a proper Servant in your stead."

Through all this, Yukiko retained a calm expression, facing him. After he finished, she took the cloth from on top of the altar.

Seeing this, the veins on Kayneth's face bulged. "By this Command Spell, Servant, I order you to-"

"Warm. It's so warm..." Kayneth was flabbergasted by her apparent disregard for his usage of the Command Spell. He could only look on in indignation.

Yukiko held the cloth to her face, nuzzling it. Sniffing it. "It's been so long since I've seen this... thank you, Lord Archibald. Thank you for bringing me back, so I could walk this Earth again, and smell the scent of my childhood."

Kayneth was silent.

"This is my old blanket, from when I was a baby, you know," Yukiko said. "Don't tell me," she laughed, "You actually thought that this belonged to Alexander the Great? I mean it's a little old, but..." Yukiko was clutching her sides in laughter, apparently unable to speak.

Kayneth took umbrage at this. It was one thing for a mere Servant to ignore his commands, but to laugh at him? Absolutely unforgivable. He couldn't even dismiss her, in this case; he had to make her pay for her offence with blood. Well, metaphorically speaking; any blood she lost would merely be a drain on his mana, but... oh, wouldn't it be worth it? Just to teach this impetuous girl a lesson in respect for her betters?

Yes. Yes it would.

First, however, he had to take care of the boy who tricked him.

"SILENCE, SERVANT!"

Yukiko was startled, and stopped laughing. "Sorry, that was just too funny..." she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Now, your first mission," Kayneth said. "I want you to use the clairvoyancy of the Caster class to discover where the naked ape who deceived me is now, that I may exact retribution from him for his crime."

"Ah, yes, of course, Master." Yukiko held her hands in front of her, as if in prayer. "Hear me, Amaterasu!"

Slowly, an image began to flicker before her. It showed a boy, around 19 years old, reclining in a bed with a sports jersey hung up on the wall next to him. His head was buried in a book. He looked up for a moment, and it almost seemed as if he had noticed he was being watched; but he simply sneezed and returned to his tome.

"Aha! There the little rat is," Kayneth said. "I cannot wait to see his face contorted in pain..."

Wait. Kayneth recognized him. That was... ah, yes. Waver Velvet. That child- no, not a child. A mere infant. He represented the worst of the newest class of students at the Clock Tower; Kayneth had been lobbying the directorship of the institution for years to only allow students with a certain degree of lineage into the school, but every time his requests were denied. They cited "declining population of the old families" as the reason they needed to expand their student body; ensure that the school's lecture halls and dormitories would continue to be filled.

Screw that. If the student body would have to dwindle in number, then so be it. It would be worth the vastly increased overall quality of the place. Kayneth knew that, but sadly it seemed that everyone else was only concerned about money. Tuition wasn't cheap, and there were many nouveau-riche who were anxious to pay their way in, and establish their own families as magical. This sort of behaviour disgusted Kayneth, who had achieved his position by sheer effort and discipline, never mind his illustrious family background. That was no help to those who would not apply themselves, and the idea that these dirty bastards whose paws were stained with ill-gotten gains were sending their stuck-up brats to be given the greatest magical instruction on Earth grated his soul. It was wasted on them.

The Velvet boy's "thesis" was the culmination of this puerile audacity. While Kayneth certainly valued the hard work he had done to become who he was, it was absolute foolishness to suggest that that could ever be enough to make up for lack of good Magic Circuits. Magic Circuits were like the foundation of a palace; one can build all one liked, investing infinite amounts of time and money into the erection of it, but without a sturdy foundation, even the grandest of palaces would crumble at the first mild storm. Hard work and effort were commendable, but utterly useless without lineage.

"You know," a voice interrupted.

Oh, what is it now... Kayneth made a mental note to spend the next few nights researching exactly how to maximize the pain he could inflict on his Servant without forcing her back to the Throne of Heroes.

"I really don't think you should be doing this," Yukiko said. "It's cruel, and honestly a waste of our time. If we're going to win the Grail, we should focus on the Holy Grail War, not some kid."

"'Cruel,' you say?" Kayneth said. "Well, perhaps that only sweetens the pot for me, Servant. Or is that philosophy too difficult to comprehend, for a mind as troglodytic as yours?"

"Yes, actually. I can't ever see myself respecting a Master who would do something like that, to a non-combatant. It's horrible."

At this, Kayneth smiled. "I see. In that case, I shall have you attend to it personally. At least you will have learned something from the experience, if you are not as utterly stupid as you seem."

Fire raged in Yukiko's eyes. "Why do you care so much about him, anyway?"

"What do you mean, 'why?'" Kayneth said. "It is my obligation as a senior member of the Mages' Association, and as Lord El-Melloi, as well as the 9th Head of the Archibald family of Magi. Impudent children like him must be punished, to atone for their insult against the honor of magic." He chuckled. "Don't mistake me, girl; I do this only out of a sense of duty. If it were only myself he had acted against, I would be generous enough to ignore the damage. Do you swat every fly you see? Of course not; it would simply be a bother. The same applies here."

"...It's not as if anyone's forcing you to do this, right?" Yukiko said. "I mean, you and I are probably the only ones who know about this whole relic-swapping thing in the first place. Your honour will remain intact if you choose to, as you say, ignore him."

"Stupid girl. I would know; and I would never be able to face myself in the mirror again. Surely someone like you would know nothing of it, but we Magi have certain higher ideals that we place above ourselves. We ourselves are answerable to them, and we hold ourselves accountable for any deviation. Hence, the sheer defiance exhibited by that boy against them can only point to a lack of proper breeding, both genetically and in his education. No Magus properly raised could act in such a disgraceful manner. Such a person is best eliminated from our ranks before he corrupts others. Really," Kayneth shook his head, "You are simply too low-born to understand the ways of the upper class..."

"I am not low-born," Yukiko said. "I am the 50th heir to the ancient Amagi clan of Eastern Magi; which, by my calculations, ranks my lineage far above yours. So please cease your ramblings about 'ideals' and 'honour;' I was happy to keep my mouth shut earlier, but it's now apparent to me that you are nothing but a spoilt child, led on by dreams of anything more important than yourself."

Kayneth's eyes bulged.

Yukiko continued. "My family has been guarding the Japanese archipelago from attack since the days of my most ancient ancestor, the Emperor Jinmu. We maintained an inn, for appearances' sake; but our true duty was always to our land and its people.

"And you know what? I was happy about that. I would have been happy to take on the burden from my mother; actually, I was looking forward to it. Or maybe I was just retroactively justifying my resignation to Fate. There was nothing I could do about it, anyway; so might as well enjoy it, right?" Yukiko laughed mirthlessly. "I never thought of myself at all, or what I wanted. I'm not even sure I was really aware of myself as a separate person; was "I" anything more than the daughter of Norikata, who had married into the clan before disappearing, and Kuroko Amagi? The 50th heir to the illustrious clan of Amagi? I don't think I considered myself defined by anything but that.

"But then, one day, that all changed. I made friends at school, and we had adventures together. I then realized that I despised the name 'Amagi;' I had finally learned that it was possible to not be defined by your family. That I could be my own person. It was as if I had been drowning all my life until that point, and then I was brought to the surface to breathe for the first time. It was exhilarating. I wanted to completely cut ties with my family, and the backwater town I had been living in, and pursue the new me. Find myself, and decide who I wanted to be. I relished the thought of telling my parents that I was leaving, and seeing their faces as I just walked out from them and everything they had prepared for my succession. Not as if they ever cared about me as a person, either. They only saw me as an opportunity to expand their magical knowledge, and strengthen the Amagi Magic Circuits. They probably saw themselves the same way, too, now that I think about it.

"I was ready to do all this, when I was stopped. My friends convinced me that I could become a Magus, without sacrificing who I was. That I could do it because I wanted to, not because I was forced or pressured or born into it. And when I heard that, it just made so much sense. Of course I could. I could pursue the path of self-determination, and what better way to do so, than with the power and prestige I would have as head of the Amagi clan?

"So I made the decision: I would succeed my mother as matriarch, because that is what I wanted. What I decided, for myself. I then used my position to ensure the prosperity of my country, delighting in the feeling of strength whenever it occurred to me that this whole country rested on my shoulders; and that I was strong enough to carry it all with ease. There is truly no better feeling..."

"I did not summon you to listen to your life story, Servant!" Kayneth shouted. "I have decided the pain of enduring your existence is not worth any Grail; I shall now dismiss you. By my second Command Seal, I order you to-"

"Oh, shut up," Yukiko said. "I'm getting sick of this act of yours. You may be a shit Magus, but unlike you, I have enough magical ability to know who my Master is. Your background is just like me. Well, except that it's several orders of magnitude smaller. Puny. I don't know why I even bothered, but I was trying to help you see the error of your ways; I thought maybe, maybe he can find happiness like I once did. I know now, though, that you're not worth the effort. So go on. Burn up to ashes, as you continue to sacrifice your life to some phantasmal thing like 'the Honour of Magic.' As far as I'm concerned, our contract is void." Yukiko turned away from Kayneth, and began walking toward the door of his workshop. "By the way," she called out behind her, "don't think you can get rid of me just by expending your Command Seals. My Yata-no-Kagami provides me with more than enough mana to keep me materialized for, oh, another century or so."

This was too much for Kayneth to bear. This girl must be punished, for her flippant denials of everything that was sacred. He checked his pocket.

Excellent, it is here, as always. Not as if he would ever let himself be caught with his pants down. She was about to open the door, but it would be too late.

"Scalp!"

The mercury tendrils shot themselves at Yukiko's departing figure, covering her, swallowing her in a giant blob.

He had used his position to his advantage, catching her by surprise, and finally getting rid of her. He would at last no longer need to endure her insufferable voice, and could now put his mind to more important matters... like locating Waver Velvet. He had already decided what he would do to him; bind his hands and feet with iron chains to a steel bedframe, and let electric current flow through the bed and chains, into Velvet's body. He would not be overly cruel, though. He would make sure to continually heal the boy, so that no matter how much voltage entered his body, no matter how he cried out for sweet death, he would live.

Kayneth smiled at the thought, and began to laugh. Indeed, there was no Magus on Earth who could stand against him; even this girl of a lineage of 50 generations was as nothing before him. He began to consider fighting in the Grail War without a Servant; if this was what his power was like, perhaps not even the greatest of Servants could stand in his way.

slosh

He pricked his ears. Seemed to have been a noise from the Volumen Hydrargyrum. Probably just digesting.

slosh

That thing was really quite noisy, wasn't it? Kayneth had never had it swallow a human before, so he wasn't sure what was typical. He began to pack his things, making his way out of the room by the other exit; as the main one was obstructed by the man-eating mercury, and the Servant's partially digested corpse inside of it. Did Servants have corpses? Or did they simply dissipate upon the return of their spirit to the Throne of Heroes? Now that he thought about it, that was odd...

Lost in such thought, he opened the door, and was about to exit the workshop, when he felt great heat on his back. He smelled burning linen.

His suit was on fire.

He turned around, and saw his Servant. Her body was wreathed in flames, and her mouth burned as she spoke. Above her head was something like a halo, or perhaps a disk, radiating blinding light.

"KAYNETH ARCHIBALD. THOU HAST BEEN DEEMED A THREAT TO THE SACRED LAND OF THE RISING SUN. I SHALL NOW PUNISH THEE, AS THE GODDESS OF THIS PLACE."

Kayneth trembled, for the first time in his life since the childhood beatings he used to receive when he failed his magical practicals. He shuddered inwardly at the memory, but summoned his pride to confront his Servant.

"Silly girl. Quit this charade, or I shall-"

"I DID NOT BID THEE SPEAK. I AM NOT THY SERVANT; I AM THE PROGENITOR OF THE IMPERIAL DYNASTY OF THE CHRYSANTHEMUM THRONE, AMATERASU-NO-OMIKAMI. NOW, ACCEPT THY PUNISHMENT AS A MAN WOULD. IF THOU'RT EVEN WORTHY OF THE NAME 'MAN.'"

Kayneth was about to say something, but his Servant - or the Goddess? He didn't know anymore - floated toward him. Slowly, inexorably, she inched closer and closer. He forgot that there was a door open behind him. He could only retreat backwards in abject terror. He tripped on his suitcase.

As he lay on he ground, defenseless, he held out his right arm in front of his face. He could use it. The forbidden spell of the Archibalds. It would drain his body of almost all is mana, likely killing him, but it would be a better fate than whatever awaited him from that divine fire.

As he was about to activate it, his mind was frozen solid by the imperious, ethereal voice.

"KAYNETH ARCHIBALD, I EXPEL NOW THY VAST DEFILEMENT."

Those were the last words Kayneth heard, accompanied by a flash of light like an atomic bomb, and the fires of a thousand suns. In the nanoseconds that his life still held out, he asked himself one final question, after a life of searching and questioning.

_What... was it all for?_

* * *

Hope you liked it! Feel free to leave feedback; I always enjoy it, and appreciate the opportunity to improve my writing.

End Notes: Because Kayneth simply doesn't get enough love.

If any of you have read my previous works, you'd probably know to expect weirdness... I've been reading _Tsukihime_ recently. Now *that* is weird. Love it, though. Praise the Nasu.

Some notes on the backstory here:

1\. Yukiko's family: They are indeed Magi, protecting the country from the shadows against threats both internal and external. This was likely why Izanami co. came to Inaba in the first place; its ley lines flowed with even more mana than those of Fuyuki. They were, however concealed by the Amagis' barrier to all but the most Divine, hence why the architects of the Heaven's Feel ritual had no knowledge of them.

2\. The relic-switching: Waver, after intercepting the delivery of Iskandar's relic from Kayneth, was making preparations to summon Iskandar in Inaba; he had heard from a friend of his - a Japanese exchange student - about the Inaba ley lines, and was determined to use them to get a leg up on the other Masters. While there, he bought a small blanket at a shop that resembled Iskandar's relic. He then singed and wrinkled it, to make it seem ancient, packaged it similarly to the relic, and shipped it off to Kayneth, who was blissfully unaware of the deception. The sports jersey hanging in his bedroom was owned by the deceased son of the American family whose home he was 'borrowing.' He used magic to deceive them into thinking that he was their dead son. They're fairly happy with the arrangement, and though pangs of guilt assail his heart, he comforts himself with the notion that if they're happy, and he's happy, that's all that matters. The book is a biography of Alexander the Great, as Waver wants to know as much about his Servant as possible before he summons him.

3\. Yukiko's Transformation: Yukiko is a Pseudo-Servant, not unlike Rin Tohsaka, who was possessed by the goddess Ishtar. The essential difference in Yukiko's case, however, is that Amaterasu-no-Omikami, as the Embodiment of the National Will of Japan (a sort of localized subsidiary of Alaya; strictly speaking, She represents the *people* of the land, rather than the land itself; but in most cases, as here, that is an insignificant distinction), only appears when the Japanese Nation itself is, in Her view, threatened. After Yukiko called for her aid for the clairvoyance, She watched Kayneth, and after he attacked his own Servant, She judged him a danger. The reason - insanity, the sheer arrogance to attack his own Servant and think himself capable of winning the Holy Grail War on his own, proved him a more dangerous lunatic than any member of the Berserker class. Hence, Amaterasu took over Yukiko's body. She pushed Yukiko's consciousness aside, and bestowed the Divine Punishment he deserved.

4\. Chronology: The Fourth Holy Grail War took place in 1994, while Yukiko Amagi was born December 8, 1994. The apparent discrepancy here can be explained simply: The blanket that Waver purchased, and switched with Iskandar's relic, was the blanket that would have been bought by the Amagi's nursemaid for little Yukiko. Indeed, it *was* bought by the Amagi's nursemaid in an alternate timeline; it functioned as a proper relic, as a temporal aspect of it existed as Yukiko's baby blanket. Hence, the summoning ritual took effect as it would with any other Servant.


	2. The Holder of the Lance

Yukiko looked about herself. After she returned to consciousness, she realised that the Goddess had taken over again. This drove her back to the same feelings she always had when this happened: Despair, regret, and frustrated anger. It was the nature of the persona soul-binding ritual that the persona-user would be tied to their persona through life and death - and apparently, even to the Throne of Heroes. She supposed that at the time, there had been no choice in the matter. Too many of her loved ones were in danger of being spirited away - no, killed - by that evil deity, Izanami. Yukiko had never had any patience for gods meddling in human afairs, only to satisfy their own curiosity and sate their immortal boredom. She as glad, at least, that those days of deceptive gods manipulating human events were far behind her.

She walked over to the charred corpse of her former Master, bent down, and silently kissed his forehead. She then used her fingers to close his eyes, the empty orbs in their sockets still bulging out in surprise. He was - perhaps unfortunately? - not the worst master she had ever had, though he was one of the bad ones. Still, there was something in him that she could relate to. What happened was truly a pity; she liked to think that if he had lived, the two of them could somehow have forged a friendship.

Well, maybe 'friendship' was stretching it a bit. 'Cordiality,' that seemed a more appropriate word.

She sat on the ground, and allowed herself several minutes to weep over the lifeless form before her. She could not afford to take any more time than that. As a member of the Caster class, she knew things that others did not. One of those things was that she was the final Servant to be summoned. This meant only one thing.

The Holy Grail War had already begun.

XXXXX

There was blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, all over the carpets, the couch, and his clothes. Staining everything with its wine-red hue. It was just...

Beautiful.

Uryuu Ryuunosuke stood up, satisfied with the magic circle he had drawn. He wasn't entirely sure whether he had properly followed the instructions in the old magic book he found in his family's attic, but he hoped that whatever he lacked in precision, was made up for by his enthusiasm. He didn't know what the hell would come out of this, but he knew that whatever it was, it would be-

"Cooooooool!" he shouted. "Hey," he said, kicking the body lying on the ground next to him. The bound boy, his mouth gagged, could only moan in reply. This annoyed Ryuunosuke; did this kid really not understand how amazing this was? A real life bona fide DEMON! Not every day you got to see that. But if there was one thing Ryuunosuke knew about demons, it was that they were just like the rest of us. They got hungry, and needed a snack occasionally. Fortunately, he had prepared for that in advance.

"Listen, kid," he said to the quivering form below him. The child was apparently too frightened to reply. Ryuunosuke couldn't wait to see the kid's face when the demon finally showed up; it'd be priceless, he knew it. "Aren't you excited? A demon's gonna show up, and you'll get to meet him!" He gestured to the surrounding corpses of the child's family. A man in a suit; probably a company man. A woman, probably attractive by most people's standards, but a little old for Ryuunosuke. He generally preferred women in their lower 20s at the most; any older, and they didn't have the same vivacity when you slit their throats. Especially not the married ones. Those seemed so bored that they almost welcomed their demise with pleasure, which annoyed him. A lot of things annoyed Ryuunosuke. This kid was one, right now. "Look, your parents won't get the chance, but you will! You'll meet him, he'll meet you, and he'll eat you!" Ryuunosuke bent down and patted the kid's flat stomach. "What have they been feeding you? God, you're practically a skeleton. I hope the demon's ok with just you, and doesn't decide to eat your parents too. That'd..." He paused. "Well, actually, it'd be pretty convenient. Saves me a ton of work on the cleanup of the bodies. All right, yeah!" He stood up and pumped his fist into the air. "LET'S GOOOOO!"

A crackling. "The hell was that," Ryuunosuke said, searching for the source of the noise. "Well, whatever." He drew a knife from its sheath on his belt. It dripped red blood as he took it out. He bent down and pulled the gag out of the boy's mouth. He then held the knife, point down, directly over the boy's face. "Thirsty?" He laughed.

The first droplets of blood fell onto the boy's face. Suddenly, a light shone behind Ryuunosuke. He turned around, to see his magic circle illuminated in an otherworldly glow. He fell onto his knees before it, and rejoiced. "I KNEW ITTTTT! Don't go anywhere, kid. The main event is just beginning." He continued to gaze at the light in wonder, as lightning began flashing above the circle, and the light soon consumed the whole room.

After the light dissipated, Ryuunosuke rubbed his eyes. He saw there was a form standing in the center of the circle, and immediately ran to it. "Hey, how are you?"

The form appeared to ignore him. "I am the Servant Lancer. I ask you, are you my Master?"

"Umm," Ryuunosuke put his hand behind his head. "I don't really know what you're talking about, but I did summon you, so... I guess? Either way, don't worry," he gestured to the bound child. "I made sure there would be some food ready for you. You hungry?"

The demon walked toward the boy. It bent down, and Ryuunosuke was almost salivating with anticipation of what would come next. The biting of teeth through flesh, the slurping of viscera; the sounds filled his mind with memories of warmth. He could almost hear it now. He closed his eyes to hear the sounds as distinctly as possible, but his mind was invaded by the sound of unraveling ropes.

He opened his eyes, and saw the demon untying the child. Unbelievable! He ran over to the demon, and began to speak. "Hey, man, what are you-"

He was interrupted by the demon putting a finger to his lips, urging silence. Ryuunosuke didn't understand what was going on, but he decided that if this guy was a demon, he probably knew what he was doing. He decided to watch for a bit.

The demon untied all the ropes holding the boy. The boy was trembling, but the demon took him into his arms. Embraced him, and even smiled. "It's all right, child," the demon said. "You needn't worry anymore. Your heart is fragile, like glass, but it will be spared further suffering."

The child's eyes widened, and he began to cry. Big, thick tears rolled down his cheeks, and his sobs filled the room. The demon patted his back. "Shh, shh... It will all be ok." The demon's hand then began to move up the boy's back. It reached the shoulder blades, but didn't stop there. Soon enough it was on the back of the boy's neck. Still embracing the child with his other hand, still cooing words of comfort, the demon squeezed the neck with incredible force. The boy stopped crying, and started screaming. The demon kept squeezing, tighter and tighter. The boy started to flail, like the death throes of a slaughtered cow. Still the demon kept him in a tight embrace, whispering how he would never let him go and suffer again. Soon the screaming stopped, then the flailing, and finally the child lay like a limp ragdoll in the demon's arms.

The demon then kissed the child's cold forehead, and stood up. He faced Ryuunosuke. Grey hair - with a lavender tint - covered his head, and a beautiful white smile of maternal warmth adorned his face. His eyes were red like the sunset, possessed of both wisdom and sorrow in vast measure. They seemed to stare directly into one's heart, penetrating all of one's emotional barriers along the way. It was as if anyone the demon looked at felt as if they were the only one in the world, like nothing mattered but the love shared between them and the demon. It was a captivating face, and it drew Ryuunosuke in. He was, for once, too awestruck to speak. He could only sit, mouth agape.

"He was in pain," the demon said, in the same soft voice he used when he spoke to the child. "I couldn't bear it. The heart of the Lilin is capable of soaring the highest mountains of culture and artistic expression, but they pay for that pleasure with suffering in equal amounts. I felt his pain deeply inside myself, and I knew I couldn't let that go on. It would eventually peak, and stale, deteriorating into a slow burn of dull pain until one day he simply died. That would be a terrible waste. I wished to preserve his life as it was meant to be remembered, as the nadir of human experience crystallized into a single moment."

"S-sir...?"

"If only he didn't have to die. If only I could have preserved him forever, a living display of the deepest fear one of your race could experience, at such a tender age. Yet here he lies, his face covered in tears and snot, a monument that will soon fade away to nothingness." Throughout the demon's speech, his smile never left his face. He walked toward Ryuunosuke, and held out his hand. Ryuunosuke took it, finding himself trembling a little. This was not out of fear, though. It was admiration. He took the demon's hand with reverence. His hand felt safe and protected inside the demon's. The demon shook Ryuunosuke's hand, and spoke. "I swear before you: Thine offering shall form my flesh and blood. Thy will shall create my sword, and I shall be thy shield. Now, what is your name, friend?"

"Ur-Uryuu Ryuunosuke, sir. I do odd jobs for a living. My hobby is serial killing; especially kids and young women." He gestured to the corpse of the boy on the ground.

The demon closed his eyes. "Uryuu Ryuunosuke," he said, as if tasting every sound in the name. "My Master. I look forward to accompanying you on your journey, and feeling the soft beat of your heart synchronizing with my own, as we search together for the Artifact of Kings; the Holy Grail."

"The Holy Grail?"

"Yes, Ryuunosuke, the Holy Grail. Once we attain it, we shall be at liberty to enjoy the sweet tragedies suffered by all men forever. We shall feel our hearts pulled down to the earth by vicarious torment, and the catharsis as we rise back up. We will be able to admire the beauty found in the souls of all, and we will be able to love every heart we meet. The inner nature of humans is most fascinating, is it not? Labyrinthine hearts, concealing the darkest of desires, but so fragile, so easy to break. Come, Ryuunosuke. Let us begin our quest of love."

Ryuunosuke was taken aback a bit, not having expected the demon he summoned to be quite like this. Either way, though, the guy was definitely the real deal, if he could squish that kid's neck like a bug. That was pretty freakin' cool. "Sure, but, one thing I need to know," he said.

"Hmm?" The same smile stared at him, the same deep red eyes boring into the depths of Ryuunosuke's soul.

Ryuunosuke swallowed, then continued. "Sir, you're amazing. You're brilliant; you're the coolest thing I've ever seen. I want you to teach me everything you know about dragging people down and preserving them and stuff, but if we're going to do this, I have to have something to call you. What's your name?"

The demon's smile remained unchanged. He stretched out his arms, and coiled them around Ryuunosuke's back. He hugged him, and Ryuunosuke knew the demon would never hurt him. The demon put his face close, and whispered in Ryuunosuke's ear. "My name is Nagisa Kaworu. I was born to meet you, Ryuunosuke."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Hadn't been planning to continue this, but why not, really. This is now a multi-verse crossover, and I've always wanted to write an Eva/Fate crossover anyway. This Kaworu is probably somewhat more like Sadamoto's manga Kaworu than anything, now I think about it. Good manga, that was.

Much like last chapter, this one was mostly written while listening to Caramelldansen on loop. I think it puts me in a sort of meditative trance at this point. Hmm.

Next update will almost certainly focus on the summoning of another one of the Servants, though exactly which one has not yet been decided. See ya!


	3. The Consumer of Love

"Get up, Kariya," said a voice.

Kariya Matou moaned. He had just finished his training - 'torture' would be a better description - in the Crest Worm pit in his family's basement, and was now lying semi-conscious on the floor outside the pit. He'd been lying like this for days, reality nothing more than a fever dream to him. No food or water had passed his lips, and he began to worry if Zouken had simply forgot about him. Would all the suffering he had endured till now be meaningless? Go through that simply to die of starvation. God, he needed to eat.

A shooting pain in his stomach. "Hahaha," the voice laughed. Did he recognize it? It... it seemed like Zouken's. Yes, it was. So the bastard had remembered him. Fine, so be it, as long as his torment was over. He'd go through anything just to save Sakura, even consort with his decrepit vampire of a father. He opened his eyes, and saw his father's walking stick buried in his stomach, not drawing blood externally. He felt, though, like there was massive internal bleeding. One or two of his organs were probably ruptured. He moaned again.

"Oh?" Zouken said. "Don't worry, Kariya. The Crest Worms inside you will ensure your regenerative ability is strong enough to withstand a light injury like this." As if to prove his point, he drove the staff in further, twisting it as he did so. This time it punctured the skin, and drew thick red blood. Kariya was finally jolted to reality, and screamed.

"Ahh, music to my ears." Zouken removed the staff, and immediately Crest Worms appeared and began filling the hole of the wound, like a scab forming. Within seconds, the wound was covered by a bandage of worms, and this only brought more pain. Kariya's screaming grew louder, as the worms knit the wound together. He writhed.

When the regeneration was complete, he was in the fetal position, panting and sweating.

"See? I told you," Zouken said with a smile. "You should survive this War, at least long enough to win the Grail. If you lose, you have only yourself to blame for the violation of Sakura's chastity. The tools you've been given are quite sufficient to the task."

Zouken drew something from a gym bag, and threw it at Kariya's feet. The cellar was dark, but... what? What was this? Could it be-

"An arm. Now, don't eat it. You must be hungry, but if you want some prey you'll have to catch your own. Pick it up, and come with me. I have a job for you."

XXXXX

Kariya stood before a summoning circle. Zouken had prepared this room, adjacent to the Crest Worm pit, for the invocation of his Servant. Kariya held the severed arm in his hand. He could see it better in the light given off by the candles spread around the room. The arm was roughly cut, not by a saw. It was more _animal_. As if to confirm this, he could see teeth marks on various places. It reeked of alcohol; it must have been preserved. This arm must be months old at the least... what sort of Servant would have something like this as a summoning relic?

"Zouken," Kariya said. "Tell me the identity of my Servant."

"No need, Kariya, no need. It will be quite obvious when he is summoned; that is, his Class and Noble Phantasm will be known to you. His name is unimportant. He is just a tool for use in the Holy Grail War, not unlike yourself." Zouken laughed. "Now, I will have you make a slight modification to the ordinary summoning chant. I trust you know the standard form?"

Kariya nodded.

"Excellent. I wish you to add the following lines..." Zouken ran up to Kariya with a speed uncanny for his age. He whispered in Kariya's ear. Kariya listened, with eyes dead save for a weak light of determination. Zouken finished whispering, and gave Kariya a quick whack in the back with his staff before slowly walking back to his previous position.

Kariya winced at the blow, and his mind burned with rage. He briefly fantasized about ordering his Servant to attack Zouken immediately after summoning him, but he reminded himself that Zouken's knowledge of Magecraft would mean he would be far too powerful to defeat like that. Besides, Zouken probably had defensive runes placed around the room to ensure his safety - and Kariya's humiliation - in exactly such a situation. What a fucking worm.

He walked to the summoning circle. The mercury and blood had already been poured. The patterns drawn on the circle reminded Kariya of his struggles through life; the spirals and whorls, spinning down into the center of the circle, made him think of himself. Just spiraling down - or up? - to death, pain all the way, but perhaps with the chance of saving Sakura on the way. Huh. He hadn't noticed before, but the six points of the star inscribed within the circle might stand for the six Servants that fall during the War. The last surviving Master and his Servant, then, must stand in the center; surrounded on all sides by the corpses of their foes. What a strange idea. Standing in the middle of a bloody battleground, severed limbs strewn around you; torsos impaled by blades, their blood flow already ceased. No life anywhere. In such an environment, even the sole survivor in the center must feel nothing but death. Rather than the supreme exultation of life winning against all odds, he must look around at his surroundings and want nothing more than to join his fellows in eternal slumber. That sort of longing would be born in anyone exposed to death for even a moment; it must be magnified a thousandfold in the winner of the Holy Grail War.

So it seems, that even after victory, there is no pleasure. The pain, the pain never ends.

He sighed, and took a deep breath. He held out his arm, holding the severed arm within it, over the circle. His voice was raised to a clear tone, as he focused on his goal above all else.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill. As each is filled, let it be destroyed." The room began to glow in the light of the circle.

"Let silver and steel be the essence, and let the rotting flesh found it in perpetual chaos." Kariya felt the worms inside him wriggle, trying to break forth from his skin, but only undulating within him.

"Let the All-Devourer be the Ancestor." The room buzzed with audible power, a chaotic strength threatening to consume the world in its maw.

"Raise a wall of life against the death that shall assault it, and close the four paths of Earth, Air, Sea, and the Realm of Divinity." There were roars in the room, rushes of wind, the bubbling of a stream, and a still small voice.

"Enter the Mouth, and follow the winding road to the Rot." A fetid stench attacked his nostrils. It was all Kariya could do to resist vomiting.

"I call to thee! Thy body, formed of my Will; thy knife, enforcing my dominion! An thou bend to my will, and my hunger, heed the Grail's call and answer me! I swear before thee; I shall become all that preys in the world, and destroy all that is weak. O Seventh Heaven, swirling in the Endless Spiral, I bid thee awaken and kill; O Wrecker of the Scales!"

Blinding light filled the room, and the last thing Kariya saw before he could see no longer was Zouken's smile. After the light dissipated, and Kariya's eyes adjusted to the darkness, there was a human form in the center of the circle. It appeared female - or was it male? - with blond hair, a red jacket, a purple shirt, and a long black skirt. The form was crouching down, so Kariya couldn't see its face through its hair. It panted, like a lion that had just finished hunting an elephant.

"I'm surprised, Kariya," Zouken said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Not only did you survive the ritual, but you managed to summon the desired Servant without any noticeable deformities. I suppose even the weakest of my effluences is worth keeping around for my entertainment. I can see the pain coursing through your body. Are the worms frenzying within you, wanting nothing more than to eat their way out of you and destroy you? Hmm?"

Kariya did not respond.

His Servant's panting intensified, and he finally erected himself somewhat. His hair no longer covering his face, Kariya could see his eyes. Gold, with a beastly aura within them. The Servant was definitely male, that much was apparent now. In his hand he held a knife, its hilt gold with a band of red. The blade gleamed, reflecting every ounce of light in the dark room.

The Servant began to sway, body shifting its weight from right, to left, and back again. Kariya was unsure of his intent, but he steeled himself in preparation.

After swaying for about 30 seconds, the Servant jumped backwards, and planted its feet on the ceiling in the corner of the small room. He then pushed off with his boot-clad feet, and flew at Kariya like an eagle plucking a fish out of water. Kariya was unafraid of his Servant. If he turned out to be the sort that rebels against his Master, then his chances at winning the Holy Grail War were already less than zero. The Command Spells on his hand burned, but he refused to use them. If he died now, at least he would finally have a rest from his work.

The Servant raised his knife mid-air, and Kariya instinctively dropped the relic in his hand. The Servant caught the arm as it fell within its mouth, and bounded back to the center of the summoning circle. He began to chew, and the sound of crunching bone reached Kariya's ears. It was a sickening sound. The Servant appeared to be consuming the arm, holding it in one hand and ripping off large chunks with its teeth. Kariya looked at the scene in astonishment, but could say nothing.

After several minutes, the Servant appeared to have finished eating. Even the bones were no more; it was as if he had swallowed the arm whole. He turned to face Kariya, and grinned widely. His face and clothing were covered in blood and dead tissue, and his white teeth were stained red. He stuck out his thick, powerful tongue, and licked all the blood from his face. He then lapped up whatever was not permanently absorbed into his clothing, before pointing his head skyward and howling at an invisible moon.

"See, Kariya?" Zouken said. "That's what a true hunter looks like; he sees his prey, and immediately attacks. You've been a disappointment to me for years. I named you 'Kariya,' the Hunter. Yet you've been nothing but prey for the strong, like myself. I suppose I can't complain too much, since I've found that watching you suffer has made life worth living... Ahh." Zouken sighs with pleasure, as if waxing nostalgic. "Such a Servant as this one is far more than you deserve, but I predict that his power will be sufficient to make up for your own shortcomings."

"Quiet, old man," Kariya said. "You told me you'd show me his Noble Phantasm. What is it?"

"Worry not. You will find out momentarily."

Zouken struck the ground in front of him with his staff, and the wall behind him glowed. It seemed to have a transitory quality; as if it were a wall, but also not a wall. Kariya couldn't look directly at it; it created a powerful headache that couldn't be suppressed. It felt like his brain would explode if he kept looking at it, so he turned away. He next lifted his eyes to see a young boy, apparently dazed. The boy was no more than eight years of age, and Kariya shuddered with rage at Zouken. There was no way this could end well, and he almost ordered Berserker to attack the old man. If not for the fear of certain death, he would have.

"Now, Kariya, order your Servant to activate his Noble Phantasm. You need not expend a Command Seal; he can draw the mana from you directly."

Kariya, not having a choice in the matter, mentally directed Berserker to activate his Noble Phantasm, whatever it was. His Servant immediately stood erect, just as before. He opened his mouth and his tongue whipped about in front of his face. Then, he bit down on his tongue, and blood began to drip all over the floor. He kept on swinging the tongue around, and soon the walls were flecked with red dots. He put the tongue back in his mouth, as if tasting the blood. Mouth closed, he dashed towards the boy, his jacket glowing a deep vermillion. When he reached the boy, he extended his tongue once more, and licked the boy. He covered his entire body in a bubbling red mixture of blood and saliva, occasionally biting or sucking on isolated parts.

The Servant then jumped back, and Kariya saw the boy's body shimmering in the light reflected off his coating of red saliva. Within seconds, the boy's formerly dazed manner began to change. He started moaning. His eyes, formerly irisless black holes, turned red and bulged. He began frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, and cried out in pain.

"Mommy, Mommy! AAAAAAAAAA!"

He collapsed to the floor, writhing like a slaughtered ox. Bumps appeared all over his body, like chickenpox. They grew and expanded, some exploding like little bombs of blood. Others grew, then subsided. Every time a bump exploded, the child yelped in pain. Kariya's heart was torn at the sight.

After what seemed like an eternity, the room sprayed with the child's blood, and huge wounds like craters on the child's back, he finally was still. It seemed to Kariya that he might be dead, but Zouken spoke. "Not yet, Kariya. The fun is not over yet."

The child then got up, its dark hair rendered blond. It looked at Kariya with deep red eyes, but they were no longer bulging; they were set normally in the ocular cavity. It bared its teeth, showing elongated canines. No longer possessed of human nails, the child had beastlike claws. It panted like a dog in heat.

It went on all fours, and scratched its ear with its leg. "Ah, a dog this time? Well, I shouldn't be surprised," Zouken said. "Not a pure manifestation, but it does seem primary."

The child barked, and broke into a run towards Kariya, tongue lolling out between sharp canines. It jumped at Kariya, its open mouth ready to accept his skull.

_slash_

Berserker had intercepted the child, cutting its head clean off. Kariya was struck by the headless corpse, severed neck bathing him in blood. He still stood, stoic, accepting the blow. Internally, he cursed Zouken and the world. The forms taken by evil were truly endless, weren't they? Just when you think that you've seen the worst this world had to offer, you are presented with something even more foul. It made him feel, for a second, like simply erasing this whole vile existence. Starting over was unnecessary; there was no guarantee at all that whatever he replaced this world with would be any better. Indeed, it could be far, far worse. The only sure improvement was nothingness; death was the only true means of salvation. But, not yet. Not until Sakura was saved, could he pursue his own selfish wishes for relief.

Zouken looked on at the spectacle approvingly, as Berserker consumed the child's corpse. When Berserker was done, Zouken went to the door leading upstairs, above the cellar.

"I leave the rest to you, Kariya. Don't disappoint me, or rather, don't let Sakura down. And do give me something to warm my old heart, some fresh screams of agony. I expect nothing less of you, Son." He cackled as he ascended the stairs.

Zouken's footsteps grew faint.

Kariya looked at his Servant. He looked at his bestial attitude, as Berserker slept on his side after eating the boy. Not even dematerializing; the Servant clearly had no sense of propriety. He had no idea heroes such as this existed, who cannibalized _children_. Perhaps the Throne of Heroes is just as corrupt a place as this world is, and just as deserving of destruction. Sadly, Kariya didn't think that anything he could do could harm a Conceptual Location like the Throne of Heroes; what was its existence tied to, anyway? The Grail? Or did it exist independently of that? Kariya didn't know, though the old bastard probably did.

Kariya made a vow to himself.

"I shall use my Servant only for good, for the rescue of Sakura. If Sakura's smiling face can be restored, it will atone for everything I have to do to win this Holy Grail War. I will become all that is good in this world, and die. When I die, I will bring down to the depths of hell all that is evil, and I shall ensure that my sacrifice is the last one that needs be made. I will personally bind the evil in shackles and throw it into the hellfires, and watch it burn. Then the smoke shall rise from the underground furnace, and when it reaches the surface, Sakura will smell it and think of me. Thus, I shall live on forever in her heart, which is the only place in this rotten world I want to be."

Kariya noticed something on the ground, next to the summoning circle. It was faint, so he didn't see it before, but it was definitely there. Inscribed in chalk. He moved closer.

He bent down to read it. It was only two words, probably a name.

"Lio Shirazumi."

* * *

Heyo! It's been only a short time since the last update, but for whatever reason I've been seized by a sudden burst of creativity these past couple days. It might be the relaxed atmosphere of the summer, combined with the fact that I've started exercising pretty heavily too. IIRC Stephen King talks about the beneficial effects of regular exercise for one's writing ability. So that's cool.

Mostly listened to Swinging Popsicle on Spotify, which is a Jpop group I learned of from their single, 'Satetsu no Tou' (Tower of Sand), which was an image song for Akiha Tohno in Tsukihime. Really good, creative Jpop, as well as easy listening. I recommend the album Transit, and the aforementioned single, 'Satetsu no Tou.'

Speaking of Tsukihime, I've just reached the True Ending for the Ciel route! Yay! I won't spoil it, but rest assured it's an excellent VN, well worth a read for any fan of Nasu's work.

Anyway, here're the actual chapter notes (being that they were barely present last time, I'll talk about stuff relevant to last chapter as well):

1\. Kaworu Nagisa, of Neon Genesis Evangelion, has been summoned as the Servant Lancer to the 4th Holy Grail War by Ryuunosuke Uryuu. His Noble Phantasm is currently unknown.

2\. Kariya's Servant is Lio Shirazumi, who featured in the 7th movie in the Kara no Kyoukai series: Murder Investigation, Part B. He is here summoned as a Berserker Class Servant, in his insane state after having his Origin awakened by the magus Souren Araya. If he were to be summoned in his previous state, before his Origin was fully manifest, he would have been summoned as an Assassin. Zouken arranged, however, that Lio would be summoned as a Berserker, thus ensuring peak combat ability.

3\. Lio's Noble Phantasm is "Bloodchip." Named after the strips of paper, spotted with a drop of Lio's own blood and laced with marijuana, it causes any living thing (human, animal, or otherwise) that is doused in Lio's blood and saliva to awaken a distorted form of its Origin. Being that Lio's Origin is itself a chaotic mass of beasts, swirling about inside of him with no-one knowing exactly which beast will break free of the vortex and manifest, it is somewhat random in its effects. Generally, the target's origin will be redirected such that it is mapped to the animal of prey most closely resembling it. The boy killed by Lio was kidnapped by Zouken, and drugged to keep him docile until he was necessary to demonstrate Lio's power (as well as amuse Zouken). His name was Shuntarou Arima, and his own Origin was [Loyalty]. This was twisted by Bloodchip to the Origin of [Dog], and so it was manifest.

Bloodchip almost never effects a pure mapping of the true Origin to the animal one; in most cases, there are elements of some other animals mixed in there. However, often one particular animal will be primarily manifest.

(It can happen that the animal Origin will manifest in a pure form, only displaying characteristics of a single animal. Indeed, to a user of certain types of Mystic Eyes that see the Origin of things, the target of Bloodchip will then be completely indistinguishable from the particular animal. The exact causes that give rise to this happening are unknown, but the phenomenon is of great theoretical interest to Magi studying Origin Theory. In addition, it is surmised that such a case would grant extraordinary abilities to the target, but that has not yet been confirmed.)

See y'all next time!


	4. The Longing of the Wanderer

The gravel cracked under Yukiko's feet as she walked through Fuyuki City.

She didn't know where to go. All she knew was that she had to get away from her Master's body, and that she had to get ready for the Holy Grail War.

She didn't know anything, in fact, right now. There was only guilt. Guilt from killing her Master.

Sure, it wasn't like she wanted to kill him. It happened while she was possessed by Amaterasu. She had nothing to do with it. She could keep telling herself this.

But in her heart, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. Something irreversible. This thought pulled at her, and she sought comfort.

She went to the train station, and found the ticket counter. She managed to get an express ticket to Inaba.

She arrived at the Amagi Inn.

She saw her mother bending down, uprooting weeds in the garden. So unassuming... but this woman was probably the foremost Magus in the entire country, outside those who had come here for the Grail War.

She watched her for a while, unsure what to say. Should she even say anything at all? She almost considered leaving.

"Excuse me? May I help you, young lady?" Her mother called to her.

Yukiko sighed. Maybe she was making a mistake. Did she really have time to waste on this?

No, she needed it. If she didn't come here, and see her mother, she would fall under the weight of anxiety long before she would get the chance to fight an enemy Servant. She needed her mother's words of comfort.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could stay at the inn for a night? I've been traveling, and I'm awfully tired..."

"Yes, of course you can. I'm Minako Amagi; may I ask your name?"

"Yukiko," she said.

"Come inside, Yukiko-chan. We'll see if we can't find a room for you."

Minako led her to the front door. "Follow me," she said.

"Thank you very much." Yukiko bowed slightly, and followed her mother into the inn.

Even that small interaction with her mother made Yukiko feel a little better. Walking through the familiar passageways of the inn only confirmed that she had made the right choice coming here.

The hallways reverberated with memories, as Minako led Yukiko to a room by the cellar.

Minako opened the door, and she pulled up some wooden chairs in front of a wooden table. Two seats facing each other, for her and Yukiko.

Minako sat down, and Yukiko did the same.

Minako clasped her hands, interlocking her still somewhat delicate fingers, and placed them on the table. It was almost a conspiratorial gesture. "So, what brings you to Inaba? It's not the most popular tourist destination," she said.

"I... I had some time on my hands, and I wanted to see some of the more out-of-the-way parts of this country. I have lived mostly in various large cities until now, and I felt there was something I had been missing in my life. I guess you could say I came out here to try to reclaim that, for a little while, at least. After tomorrow I'll likely be heading somewhere else, but while I'm here I want to enjoy all that this quaint little town has to offer," Yukiko said.

"I see," Minako said. She unclasped her hands and brought them off the table. She then leaned back in her chair. "Anywhere in particular you want to go after you leave here?"

"No, not really," Yukiko said. "I haven't thought that far ahead. I'd really prefer to make my plans up as I go along, rather than adhering to a particular itinerary. I feel there's more freedom in that approach, wouldn't you say?"

Minako chuckled. "I suppose you're right, from one perspective. Have you been travelling long?"

"Not really, I only left home yesterday." Sensing the relaxed atmosphere in the room, she stretched her arms a bit. "It feels like it's been forever, though. So much has happened."

"Isn't it always so," Minako said. "We are so accustomed to being at home, that the moment we leave it's as if our whole world is turned upside down, and there's a kind of a longing to just go back. I know what that's like... It can be too strong to resist, sometimes. And when that happens, you can end up stuck where you are. Never leaving, you're always safe; but you can never do anything either. Like a bird in a cage, you just sing and die."

"Isn't that... erm..."

"What? Go on, say it."

"Well," Yukiko took a deep breath. "Isn't that a bit of a morbid way to describe it? I mean, true, it's not a very eventful life, but you can still do great things staying in one place. You can focus on yourself. You can work hard to build a community you can be proud of. You can get married, have children, and play with them and love them. Aren't those perfectly valid goals? Is that really such a terrible way to live?"

"Hold on a second." Minako got up, and bent down to a small cabinet that had been obscured by the darkness of her shadow. There was a noise of a lock opening, the tumblers inside dancing to get out of the path of the ridges on a key. "Ah, there we are." She brought a bottle of alcohol with her back to the table.

Minako slammed the bottle on the table, took the glasses off the top of it, and began to open it with a bottle opener that she took out of her pocket. With a grunt, she got the bottle open, and poured the thick clear liquid into one of the two glasses. She took the other one and held it towards Yukiko, offering her some.

Yukiko refused.

Minako shrugged, put the bottle and the unused glass down on the table, and drank some of her own glass. She put it back down on the table, half full. "If that's your choice, I'll respect that. But you know," she leaned on her elbow and pointed her finger at Yukiko's face, "there is a difference between respecting another person's choices, and not caring about what happens to them."

She relaxed in her chair.

"Look, it's none of my business, really. It really isn't," she continued. "But speaking as a concerned adult to a young woman, I have to say that you should learn from my mistakes. If you don't, you'll repeat them. It's not like every time you run the same course, something different happens. The world is static, deterministic. If you put the same thing into it, you'll get the same thing out of it. The future is undetermined, yes, but that's only because the input is not yet decided. Once you decide what you want to do, and you do it, the world responds in its own way according to a fixed set of rules that never have, nor ever will change. You can look at it as a sort of convex mirror; what a convex mirror reflects will always be different depending on what's in front of it, but once you put an object in front of it it will always reflect it in exactly the same way, and with exactly the same distortion. It's not possible to switch the mirror for another one."

She paused.

"There is only one world, at least on this side of the abyss of death. And unless you cross that - and who can, and stay themselves? - you cannot move to another world. The mirror will always remain the same, and the thing you have to do if you want to achieve a desired reflection, is to figure out exactly what you need to put in front of that mirror. Figure out how far away from the mirror, and at what angle it should be. Once you do that, you can always refer to that information to lead you in your path through life.

"This is why we have our elders, and records of ancient times. We can learn from our predecessors. Since the birth of this world, humans have experimented with putting different things in front of the mirror. They would move, tilt, and shine lights on them. At this point, all that accumulated knowledge is just sitting there in libraries, in books, and," she tapped her temple with her index finger, "in the brains of people older than you."

She took another sip of her drink, tipping the glass so that the last drops remaining fell into her mouth. After it was emptied, she licked the moisture off her lips, and let out a satisfied sigh. She placed the glass back on the table in front of her.

"So I strongly advise you," she seemed to be moving to a conclusion, judging by the tone of her voice. "Take advantage of all the resources you can, especially if they are offering themselves to you. You're a beautiful young woman, in the flower of life, and it would be the greatest shame to see you shackled down by a repressive lifestyle. Take advantage of your youth. You only get it once."

Yukiko chose her words carefully. "I see what you mean, and of course I agree with you. But, in the end, this is my decision, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay." Yukiko nodded. "I respect you as an older person, and I appreciate you taking the time to speak to someone you only just met like this. It's rare to find someone like you, and I'm glad I did."

She paused.

"But, why did you decide to talk to me like this? You only just met me; surely you must have something better to be doing," she said.

"How could I have anything better to do than talk to my daughter?"

Yukiko was taken aback. "What did you say?"

Minako chuckled. "I wasn't expecting this, but when my daughter came to me and asked for a place to stay, how could I turn her down? You're surely aware of our family's history. As the current head of the Amagi clan, my Magic Circuits are quite powerful. There's no way I wouldn't notice who you are."

Yukiko looked away.

Minako continued. "Although, the strange thing is that you haven't been born yet..." She adopted a thoughtful pose. "There must have been some True Magic - or an imitation? - involved, for you to be here now."

"Y-you could say that, yes," Yukiko said.

"Oh?" Minako was intrigued. "Don't tell me my daughter managed to find a path to the Root? I have to say, I'm impressed-"

"No."

Minako considered this for a moment. "I see. Well, how did you end up here?"

"I-I..." Yukiko had some difficulty getting the words out. "I've been summoned as a Servant."

"In the Holy Grail War?" Minako's eyes widened.

Yukiko nodded.

"This is the..." Minako counted on her fingers. Unclenching her index finger, middle, ring, pinky... "Fourth? No, not the Fourth..." She stretched out her thumb. "The fifth Holy Grail War, eh?"

Yukiko was silent.

"I'm proud of you."

Yukiko brought her eyes to meet Minako's, but still did not speak.

Minako continued. "Finding a path to the Root would have been a great accomplishment all on its own, but it's a fundamentally selfish thing. Becoming a Heroic Spirit requires making a name for yourself in legend, and that's impossible if no one knows about what you did. So, tell me." There was an excitement in her voice, like a child listening to stories of his famous ancestors. "What did you do? Who did you save?"

"It wasn't any big deal..." Yukiko said.

Minako scoffed. "What do you mean, 'it wasn't a big deal'? The Grail certainly thinks it was a big deal, and that's good enough for me. It should be good enough for you too. C'mon, take some pride in it! You've earned it."

"You'd laugh."

"I wouldn't," Minako said.

"Promise?"

Minako closed her eyes, and put her hand on her breast. "I, Minako Amagi, do solemnly swear not to laugh at anything my daughter tells me about her achievements." She opened one eye furtively. "How's that?"

"Fine." Yukiko drew a breath. "I saved some people who were in danger of being killed by getting stuck in televisions."

"How did they end up in the televisions?" Minako said.

"Oh, you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Minako said.

"Nothing," Yukiko said. "Anyway, they were thrown into the televisions by a rogue deity, who treated their lives like her playthings. I saved some of them. And I didn't even do it on my own; there were others. I was just support, really... the Grail must be crazy to have picked someone like me."

"The Grail is indeed strange... Nevertheless, I don't think it was wrong here. I can tell from your aura that you're far more powerful than you let on. I see I raised a humble girl."

"It's not me that you sense," Yukiko said.

"Who, then?"

"Due to the circumstances of my summoning, the bond I formed in life was preserved. Specifically, with a certain other deity, whose power I borrow," Yukiko said. "Amaterasu-no-Omikami."

"Even so, you'd need to have a pretty high level of ability to serve as a vessel for the Mother of the Chrysanthemum Throne. Humility is good, but don't sell yourself short. You're my daughter, after all."

Yukiko looked away again. "Maybe, if I was a proper vessel... Every so often, she takes control, and there's nothing I can do. She just, does whatever she wants, and by the time I wake up, she..." Yukiko started to cry.

Minako took Yukiko's hand in her own, her warm touch giving life to the girl's frail heart.

"Would you like me to teach you to control your power, Yukiko?" Minako said.

"Could you?" Tears streamed down Yukiko's face.

"Of course! We Amagi have been guarding this country for centuries; if there's one thing we know, it's the guardian deity of the land. This is assuredly why you had such inborn affinity to Amaterasu in the first place. Don't worry, there are many rituals for communing with her in our family records... as long as I can remember where I put them," she chuckled.

Yukiko laughed a little.

"There you are, Yukiko," Minako said. She used her free hand to wipe Yukiko's tears. "It'll all be all right. I'll give you a boost, and then I'll leave the rest to you. I have complete faith in you. You can win the Holy Grail War."

"You think so?" Yukiko said, her voice a little clearer now that she had stopped crying.

"I know so." Minako stood up. Her hand was still holding Yukiko's, the link of a pact between them.

Yukiko looked up at her with unfocused eyes.

Minako smiled at her. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to meet you, Yukiko. I only envy my future self for having the opportunity to watch you grow up into the strong woman you are now." She chuckled. "Still, I look forward to getting to know my beautiful daughter."

Yukiko blushed. "I'm only here for the night, you know."

"Then let's make the most of it," Minako said. "The rituals won't perform themselves, and besides, I have a million things to ask you, if you don't mind."

"It'll be my pleasure," Yukiko said. "I'm glad to see you too... Mom."

* * *

I wanted to do some fluff for a change.

Not really any new worldbuilding introduced here; Minako was named after the fanon name for Persona 3 Portable's Female Protagonist. I quite liked her, and kinda wish Persona 4 and 5 gave you the option to play as a woman.

Hope you liked it, and see y'all next time!


	5. The Sword of Peace

I am driven by madness, by a welling feeling inside that comes up from the greatest depths. It forces me to put these words down, and I must record them.

O Blessed Virgin, heed my prayer. Come to me and draw me within your arms, your Son, stained with filth. The blood of men is on my hands, and though I wash it in baptismal waters, it remains. It soaks into my skin and brings their curses deep within me, to my core. My soul is laid bare before them, and is tormented by them.

The Savior is dead and I am alive, and I fall to his knees and pray. Come to me, O Jesu, fill my heart with your love. I am a man without it. I walk the earth and all I see, I wish to destroy. I have no love - or if it is love which I have, it is love of destruction. Save me from myself. I am only a vessel before you, and if I am shattered, bond my broken pieces together with your holy substance. Make me whole, that I may walk before you in light and life, and that I need not descend again to the holy dark beneath this world. It draws me in but I cannot go.

I cannot leave you, my Father of Light. My Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Bring me to thy kingdom, and lead me through its streets as a lamb through a meadow. Give me not bread, but let me graze on grass that I may be fully humbled before thy splendor. For thine is the staff and the table, and the cup of desire is only thine. Let me fill it, that I too may share in its blessings under your holy throne. The wheels of fire turn and swallow me in their revolutions, endlessly shifting from one world to the next. They burn me, purifying my sins and leading me to thee. Amen.

XXX

Kirei Kotomine finished drawing the summoning circle. All the other supplies were here, ready to call forth his Servant from the Throne of Heroes.

He had agreed to his Father's and Tokiomi's request, to serve as a support Master for Tokiomi in the Holy Grail War. They could ask him for anything, he wouldn't care. At this point, his life was devoid of all meaning.

Part of Kirei had been able to find fulfillment in caring for his wife, but with her gone, there was nothing left. His devotion to God was something that gave him an outer shell of purpose, but it didn't penetrate to the depths of his soul as he thought it should. Perhaps at least with his father on Earth, he might somehow be able to approximate the closeness to his Father in Heaven that he sought. Perhaps the love from one, would simulate the love from the other, and he might no longer be empty inside.

He stood up. The relic for the summoning - an easy item to procure - stood on a pedestal nearby. The fluid was held in a wine chalice in his hand. The blood within it swirled like wine, rippling the surface. He had forsworn alcohol when Claudia's condition began to worsen, but even now he kept his collection intact. Though he did not drink any of it, having the wine there seemed somehow right to him.

He tipped the chalice, and as the blood dripped onto the patterns drawn on the ground, he intoned. "Fill, fill, fill, fill. As each is filled, let it be destroyed."

The blood of Christ poured from the Grail, and filled the Earth. The Earthly vessels are filled, and shattered. Was that what he desired?

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

For thirty pieces of silver, the Son of God was betrayed to his enemies. He died not to the cold steel that pierced his side, but was left to rot in the presence of carrion birds. With this sacrifice, with this pain, he atoned for all our sins. So, why do my own sins weigh heavy?

"Upon it rests the cornerstone, and the Archduke of Contracts."

The stone that the builders rejected is become the cornerstone. He yearned for a concrete bond to his Savior, like the Command Seals manifest on the hands of Masters bound to Servants. For he felt that he was in danger of rejecting the Son of God as the Pharisees did, and severing his link to the Source of Life.

"Become the wall that repels the gale."

Can I achieve this? Can I, with my frail flesh, withstand the winds of change in this time? They threaten to sweep me away in their grasp, and I worry for my soul.

"The four gates close tightly."

Have my sins caused the gates of Heaven to close before me, barring entry?

"Burst forth from the Crown, and follow the winding road to the Kingdom."

I wish to fulfill the Kingdom of God on this Earth. If I did that, could I establish His Kingdom in my heart?

"I call to thee."

O God,

"My body, formed by thy will."

If only it were so.

"Thy sword,"

On the day of thy Judgment,

"Enforcing my fate."

Please spare my soul.

"An thou bend,"

If thy Grace,

"To my will and my justice,"

Takes note of my longing for you,

"Heed the Grail's call,"

Give ear to my prayer,

"And answer me."

And save me.

"I swear before thee."

Let a new Covenant be formed between us, Lord.

"I shall become all that is good in this world,"

I shall cultivate the virtues in my heart,

"And I will destroy all that is evil."

And I shall cut the vices off at the root.

"Seven Heavens,"

You created the world in seven days, but how long did you spend creating me? You rested on the seventh; is that it? Man was born on the sixth, and ate of the fruit before he could enter the Seventh Heaven.

"Clad in the Three Holy Souls,"

O Father, O Son, O Holy Spirit; dwell within me and I shall be as a sanctuary to you.

"Cast aside your shackles, and come forth,"

Release the bonds that tie me, and let me glow with your blessing.

"Guardian of the Scales."

I shall erase my doubts, and carry out thy will on Earth, Jesu Sancte.

As the blood in the cup was exhausted, its final drops irrigating the lines drawn on the floor, Kirei closed his eyes to the glowing that was emitted by the charged magic circle. One hand holding the cup, he crossed himself with the other, and whispered.

"Kyrie Eleison."

XXX

A form emerged from the cloudy chaos that covered the summoning circle. Clad in blue vestments, Kirei's Servant projected an aura of efficiency. Her Noble Phantasm was not visible, but he knew it was there.

He was pleased at the success of the ritual. Acquiring the particular set of Black Keys he had required had not been difficult at all; his father's connections within the Church had made that trivial.

"I ask you," the Servant said. "Are you my Master?"

"I am, Assassin," Kirei replied.

"Excellent." She walked to where he stood, and extended her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Master."

This was a welcome surprise. Clearly, his Servant was not the type to feel burdened by her loyalty to a Master; it inspired him to see her embrace the situation as she did. He took her hand in his own, and shook. "The pleasure is mine, Servant."

The handshake complete, she returned her hands to her sides. "I trust you seek the Grail, as I do?"

"Of course," Kirei said. "Why else would I have summoned you?"

"Masters are fickle creatures," she said. "One never knows exactly _why_ they have contracted your services, only that they have."

"I see," Kirei said. "You have nothing to worry about. I shall honor our pact; I would consider it an affront to Him in whose Name this Grail is dedicated to violate it."

The Servant looked about herself. She saw Bibles on the shelves, a crucifix above the door, and a gold cross on her Master's neck. "I see you are a member of the clergy."

"You might say that," Kirei said. "Or you might not. My own position in the Church is not terribly removed from yours, in fact."

For whatever reason, Kirei was rather enjoying this conversation.

"Oh? You mean," she stepped a few paces back, and steel blades with red hilts appeared between her fingers. "You share these swords with me?"

"Indeed I do," Kirei said. He brought his own Black Keys out. They very resembled the Servant's, if somewhat longer, to fit his larger stature. "As the Son of God said, think not that I have come to bring peace, but the sword."

The Servant bit her lip. She retracted her Keys, and Kirei did the same. "Are there many vampires remaining in this era, that the Church considers the Burial Agency necessary still?"

Kirei chuckled. "Oh, they certainly are a nuisance; however, I am not of the Burial Agency. My own employment is in the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. Our job isn't quite as... exciting, sad to say."

The Servant was silent.

Kirei continued. "I can assure you, all our foes will be ordinary humans. I'm well aware of your past life, and I do apologize for not providing you with heretics like the Serpent of Akasha to eliminate. Still, I trust you will find opportunities to put your skills to use."

"You've no need to apologize, Master," the Servant said. "I should be quite glad if I never have to see another of that accursed race again, even after my death."

Kirei smiled. "I can imagine. The one must have been enough, was it not?"

She glared at him.

"Wreaking havoc on a village, cannibalizing innocents... and invading the soul of a young girl, who had just begun to taste the flower of life. Truly, a despicable abomination unto the Lord," Kirei said.

Her eyes burned with rage.

"Wouldn't you agree, Elesia?"

"I serve you," she said, "And I hold our pledge divine. Thus, I shall not contravene it, no matter what personal feelings may arise toward you. I must ask, though, why do you remind me of these things, Master? Do you not know how it hurts me, to think of that time?"

"I merely wished to steel you for the coming battles," Kirei said. "The trials we shall have to face dwarf what you have seen and done. I chose you as a Servant not only for your combat prowess, but for my admiration of your life. Few have managed to contain evil within them as you, and weather the torture necessary to eliminate it. For that, you have earned my respect, and I hope to learn something of your strength before we inevitably part at the end of this War."

She felt an aura of evil from him, but perhaps that was why he sought her? Perhaps, he too felt the burden of evil in his heart, and wanted to excise it? If so, she supposed she would have to hold back her condemnation of his character, for the moment; though she burned with anger, the memories of her adolescence only tearing at her heart like the dirty claws of a bird of prey.

"Understood, Master," she said. "However, I respectfully request that you not bring that time up again."

"Granted."

"Thank you. In addition, the name 'Elesia' carries with it no small measure of pain. Might I ask that you refer to me otherwise?"

"However you wish to be called, I am more than happy to comply," Kirei said.

"Call me 'Ciel.'"

"Of course," Kirei said. "I look forward to the fruits of our labors, Ciel."

Ciel wondered what the future had in store for her. Her Master seemed equal parts kind and cruel, sincere and manipulative. His faith seemed genuine, at least. Ciel had never been strong of faith, having been prized by the Church for _very_ different reasons than the purity of her soul. She had no love for clergy, either.

The Church and its trappings in this room made her feel uncomfortable, even after ascending to the Throne of Heroes. Death was nothing new to her, and she envied this man his life. As a representative of that hated organization, her Master promised to be a thorn in her side for as long as she fought in this false War.

However, there was at least one certainty in this whole affair. Her Master was wrong.

There was no way the Holy Grail War could compare to the suffering she endured at the hands of those priests and nuns, experimenting on her unwilling flesh, trying to push her beyond the veil of death. Every time her body's time reversed itself, and brought her back screaming to this mortal world, her heart hardened. By the time they gave up and allowed her to join the Burial Agency to hunt the vampire who had defiled her body with his immortality, her heart was steel. Harder and colder than the Black Keys she carried, it was entirely impervious to pain, and pleasure. Those stone walls she erected were melted only once, but never again.

These walls would grant Ciel the ability to resist any blow, physical or emotional, and win the Grail for herself and her wish.

She bowed.

"Consider the Grail yours, Master."

* * *

Evening, folks. So far, we've got... Caster, Lancer, Berserker, and Assassin. Still have three more, so let's see what happens with those.

Unlike my typical way of writing (namely, not doing it except when I occasionally feel like it), I actually finished writing this a few days ago, and have already started the next chapter. Wanted to let this one sit for a bit, before I give it a final look-over and publish. It remains to be seen whether this was a good idea or not.

I just finished Carl Jung's Liber Novus (also called The Red Book), which is a fantastic bit of weirdness. This is the prime inspiration for Kirei's monologue at the beginning... as well as his thoughts during the Summoning itself, I suppose.

Don't really have much else to say, frankly, except that I've started Fate/Apocrypha. I absolutely love Mordred, and wouldn't particularly mind if they cut most of the rest of the cast and focused on her and her Master. Yes, it may not be the most well-written or coherent iteration of the Fate franchise; in fact, sometimes it feels like a fun fanfic. But isn't that what I aspire to? Only makes sense to pay attention to a work that did it far better than I could dream of doing it.

Hope you liked it, and see y'all next time!


	6. The Serpent of Judgment

There is light. The entire world is filled with light. It is so warm, and heals my soul.

Or does it? Where is my soul? I see a figure ahead of me. He is of the form of a man, suspended in the heavens. His arms are outstretched, giving blessing to the earth below. He wears no clothing; raiments of light conceal his body, and his face shines too brightly for any to look upon it.

I look down at myself, and I see that I too am clad in such light-garments. Who are you, I ask.

I am thou, and thou art I, he answers. I am the sun, the ever-giving source of life unto the world. I am the eye of Horus, inspecting all the deeds of man, and dispensing judgment according to my will. I am the scarab rolling the sun in the dirt, and I am the phoenix, reborn in the fire and ashes. I am all and I am none, and all is below me when I rise, and above me when I set. I am the eternal one, ever living and ever dying, and I shall repeat this cycle until creation itself is swallowed up by the increasing nothingness from which I was born.

Amaterasu? I ask him.

In a sense, he answers. I am Amaterasu; I am also Helios, Ra, and Sol Invictus. I am all that shines in the heavens, and I am none of them. I am the first and last of the gods of this world, and none may ascend to the infinite but through me.

Yet you say that I am you, I say.

Indeed, he replies. All men are apportioned parts of me, for they all live only through my nourishment. My beneficence pervades all, and there is nothing that exists but by my word. I am thou, and I am the dog, and the star, and the sky. There is nothing outside of me.

Are you the moon?

I am the moon, but the moon is not me.

Yet, I am you.

Yes. Though I am all, not all is me.

You confuse me with your words.

As well you should be confused, he says. My light is too great for mortals to bear. If you could understand it, you would no longer be yourself, but swallowed by the light without end.

Must I remain myself? Your light is magnificent, I wish to possess some of its beauty.

You must, yes. If you were to become me, you would no longer exist, and your existence is necessary to the fulfillment of the plan.

My existence?

You must be you, and I me. We must engage in spiritual congress, but we must never let the boundaries of the ego fade. I am thou, and thou art I, but by no means am I thou, nor art thou I. We are one yet two, helpmates unto each other.

This makes no sense.

It is the great Mysterium; it cannot make sense, this would violate its sacredness.

Are you my soul?

What is a soul?

It is the essence of one's being.

I am not the essence of your being; if I were, you would be viewing this exchange from my perspective, rather than your own.

Then what are you?

I am he who stands within yet without you. I am he who follows you wherever you go, but is always distinct. I lie behind your vision, and can only be seen with the inward gaze of the third eye. I am thou, but I am not thou.

Stop speaking in riddles; I require an answer, else my mind may break.

Let it break. If it breaks, use those cracks that appear and let them be filled with me.

I shall be rendered powerless if my mind, that central organ, should break. Is that what you desire?

Be powerless. There is infinite strength in the weak, the power of sickness and poison to which even the greatest of all gods must fall. I am the embodiment of power, so be what I am not. Fill my lack.

Am I worthy?

It is not a question of worth. You are with me, therefore you are with me.

Your light is too bright, I cannot remain with you for fear of being burned.

If you are burned, well and good. My fires shall consume you, and you shall cool my heat.

Have you only thought for yourself?

How can I be selfish? I am thou, and thou art I. There is no way for me to benefit without you too benefitting.

You trick me with your words, evil spirit.

I trick none, least of all you.

Do you love me?

I love all, and hate in equal measure. The one cannot be without the other.

Do I love you?

Do you?

I don't know.

If you yourself do not know, how can you expect to find the answer in another?

I don't know.

You have much to learn of yourself, before you can lay claim to me.

How can I learn?

You know.

No, I don't know.

There is none who does not know, only those who deceive themselves with the lie of ignorance.

How can I uncover my lies? Can your light shine upon them, and burn them to ash?

If I did that, you would be annihilated beyond repair. Even the souls of the dead would not take you among them.

Then what can I do?

Look within yourself. Look to a place deeper than I, and higher. Wider, yet narrower. Fix your gaze on the centermost point, and allow it to expand to infinity.

XXX

Yukiko woke up.

What did he mean? The ritual was supposed to summon Amaterasu herself, not some sort of amalgam of different sun gods. This isn't what I asked for. What will I do?

"Oh, you're finally up," Minako said. She was sitting next to Yukiko's bed with a book, which she had laid to the side when she saw her daughter awake. "So, what happened?"

"It wasn't at all what I expected," Yukiko grumbled. "I did everything correctly, but I didn't see Amaterasu."

"Then, what did you see?" Minako tilted her head in confusion.

"I saw a man. He said he was Amaterasu, but he also wasn't, and he was everything else too... it was definitely a weird dream, so the ritual must have done _something_, but there must be something we left out. Maybe you forgot something?" Yukiko said, drowsily.

Whack.

Minako had hit her on the head with the closed book in her hands.

"Hey," Yukiko glared at her. "What was that for?"

"As if I could screw up a ritual as important as this. Hmph," Minako said. "That _was_ Amaterasu."

"Huh? Amaterasu is definitely female, I know that," Yukiko said.

"Well, if anything, I did it _too_ perfectly," Minako said, apparently ignoring Yukiko. "Instead of the particular manifestation of the Sun, I managed to bring forth its essence? Nice!" She pumped her fist in the air in triumph.

Yukiko was annoyed. "I'm glad you're happy, but are you sure you're not just trying to justify a screwup?"

Minako raised the book over her head.

"I mean," Yukiko said, "I don't entirely understand what you said, o Honorable Mother, so would you be so kind as to explain it to a worm such as my pitiful form?"

Minako raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think that's going a bit overboard?"

"M...Maybe," Yukiko said. "Please don't hit me again, though. I just got up and that really hurt."

Minako chuckled. "Heh, fair." She put the book down on the nightstand. "So, you want to know why you saw what you did?"

Yukiko nodded.

"All right. So, essentially, at the formation of this world from the Root of endless Chaos, many things sprang forth. I trust you know this much?"

"Of course," Yukiko said.

"Good. This makes things a bit simpler. Anyway," Minako continued. "There was at one point a certain essence that flew out of the Spiral of the Root, called [Shining]. This essence was formless, and wandered space until it found matter it could attach itself to. The vast expanse of the cosmos proved inhospitable, but it was a strong essence, among the first to emerge from the Spiral. So it gathered scattered particles all around, and formed them into a luminous mass. Before this essence took shape in this way, there was 'light', as an abstract concept, but there was no object to bring it forth from abstractness to reality.

"The matter that this essence coalesced into a shining mass eventually became what we call 'Sun.'"

"I don't entirely understand," Yukiko said. "But go on."

"All right. This essence, as the 'Sun,' continued to exist alone in solitary confinement. There was nothing for it to shine its light upon, so it was held back from its innate drive to illuminate something. It shook and churned itself, trying to pour its light upon itself, but it was always frustrated."

"It was full of light already, so what was the point?" Yukiko asked.

"Exactly, there was no point. But the drive had to go somewhere, even if it meant overloading itself with its light."

"How sad," Yukiko said.

"Indeed," Minako said. "So it waited for something else to arrive, that it could shine on. Eventually, something did. This was the Moon, and the 'Sun' shone its light upon the dark cold Moon, and it was happy."

"What a lovely ending," Yukiko said. "But how is it relevant to me?"

"You'll see soon, be patient. The Moon had an essence defined by [Reflection], but it was met with a similar trouble to the Sun's; it had nothing to reflect the Sun's light against. It searched, but the only things that existed were itself and the Sun, and the Sun was the source of light; there was no point in reflecting the light straight back at the Sun."

"So what did the Moon do?" Yukiko asked.

"It spoke to the Sun, saying 'I hate you, for only you can fulfill your desire. I too wish to give unto another, but there is none but you.'

"The Sun replied, 'If I am to give to you, I cannot simultaneously take from you the ability to grow and become that which you must. Allow me to borrow some of your essence.'

"The Moon was uncertain, but it trusted the Sun to engage in intercourse with it. Their essences merged for but a moment, and when they were done, the Sun spoke to the Moon. 'You shall suffer no longer, the pain of wealth. I have accepted a small part of your reflective nature into myself, so you can now shine your light upon me, and I shall accept it.' For you see, the Sun only accepted the absorptive aspect of reflection, and not the returning aspect."

"How strange," Yukiko said. "You sound almost like him."

"Him?" Minako asked.

"The man in the dream," Yukiko said.

Minako smiled, then laughed. "Really?"

"I don't know why you're laughing, but yes."

Minako stopped laughing, and put her hand on Yukiko's shoulder. "Sorry, Yukiko; this is just hilarious."

"Whatever," Yukiko drew away from her mother's hand.

Sensing her daughter's mood, Minako withdrew her hand.

She continued. "So, the Moon was overjoyed at this. For many eons they continued in this way, the Sun shining light against the Moon, and the Moon returning a portion of it to the receptive part of the Sun. Eventually, the Moon said to the Sun, 'Come, beloved. You give to me, and I to you, but I wish to give with you together. I want to join you in the act of giving, on the same side of the divide.'

"The Sun replied. 'But there is nothing beside us, dear one.'

"The Moon thought, and said, 'Then let us craft a Third, who might embody both our essences in equal measure, and whom we might set up on the other side of the great divide, facing us.'

"The Sun replied. 'Your words please me, my love. Then let us do so. I shall gather the particles of light, and I leave to you the particles of dark.'

"The Moon left the Sun, and happily went about her task. She gathered particles of dark from across the reaches of empty space, revelling in the emptiness that was so close to her own nature, in its nonbeing. She put it all together into a single mass of darkness, and returned to the Sun, who displayed his own ball of light.

"The two masses merged, and a blue sphere emerged from the chaotic dance of light and dark.

"The Sun spoke. 'Behold, Moon; we have created a composite being, sharing in both our essences.' The Moon was glad for to have participated with the Sun in a mutual activity of giving, and replied to the Sun. 'Indeed, beloved. Now let us set it across from us, that it may gaze upon us, and we upon it.'

"Then the two of them placed it below, such that if a line were drawn directly upwards from the newborn sphere, it would be exactly in between the Sun and the Moon. Then they established a separation between them and it, transparent and immaterial. They called this the firmament, and charged it never to allow a remixture of the sphere, which they named 'Earth,' with themselves. For they knew that on the day this happened, the Earth would surely die, its composite parts rejecting their unity and the light parts jumping back to the Sun, while the dark parts went to the Moon."

Yukiko interrupted her mother. "Are you.. entirely sure this is how it happened?"

"Am I?" Minako said. "Perhaps it did, perhaps it didn't; does it really matter?"

"I should think it does," Yukiko said.

"You have much to learn, then, daughter."

"Well, given what happened last night, I suppose I can suspend disbelief somewhat longer," Yukiko said.

"Excellent."

Minako continued.

"After this, the Earth was granted light and dark from its two creators. After some time, the conditions reached a point where the Earth had achieved an independent consciousness, such that it too desired to give unto another. It approached its parents with its concerns, and they all conferred about what to do. There were only two essences, so it seemed pointless to create another Earth-like being that would be essentially the same, with the same problems.

"The Sun came upon an answer. 'What say you two to the creation of a race of beings, each embodying elements of light and dark, in infinitely variegated measure?' The Moon and Earth agreed immediately, for the idea pleased them immensely. The Sun then shone his light, the Moon her dark, and the Earth prepared herself to give forth that race upon her soil. Soon, men were formed. The males bore the solar aspect, and the females the lunar, but much like the Earth that bore them, each individual male and female possessed a mixture of solar and lunar, no two individuals having the same distribution.

"This race proliferated on the Earth, and the Earth gladdened of their presence and happiness. She thanked the Sun and Moon, and her feelings of gratitude began filtering to the men upon her. Soon, they too established temples unto the heavenly creators, worshipping them under many names. Each human formed his own inner pair of twin deities, Sun and Moon, which differed from those of his fellows. In this manner, every aspect of each of those celestials was celebrated and cultivated.

"Therefore, while most men worshipped the light-giving masculinity of the Sun, and the dark-giving femininity of the Moon, exceptions arose. In the land that came to be known as the Sun's Source, whence the Sun rises above all the Earth, humans tapped into the hidden feminine aspects of the Sun, and the hidden masculine aspects of the Moon. In this land, the persona of Amaterasu, the Heaven-Shining goddess, arose.

"Therefore, Yukiko, the man you saw in your dream was indeed Amaterasu; you saw the psychic manifestation of the original essence of [shining]!" Minako smiled with pride. "As expected of a daughter of mine, with the aid of a ritual I prepared."

"That's all very well and good," Yukiko said, unimpressed, "But this seems to be a problem for us. I'm glad you're proud of how you did, but now that you summoned this original essence person or whatever, he's telling me I can't 'lay claim to him' without uncovering my lies, whatever that means."

"Yes, and?" Minako said. "It's not like you wouldn't have to do that anyway."

"Would I?"

"Of course," Minako said. "There's no way you could unlock your own Origin without _something_ terribly unpleasant. You should be glad this is all you have to do; there are cases of far worse requirements." She shuddered.

"My... Origin?"

"Yes, Yukiko," Minako said. "Your Origin is the defining point of what makes you who you are, the dot in the middle of your soul that contains everything in the universe in absolutely no space. And in _your_ case," she pointed at Yukiko's chest, "Your Origin just happens to be the very same [shining] as our dear Mr. Sun's."

"Then..." Yukiko was confused by this sudden turn of events. How could her mother say so casually, something so important? It didn't make sense to her. "How do I do it? How do I uncover my lies? Don't tell me you don't know, I know you do."

Minako laughed. "Indeed, I do. All right, close your eyes, and listen to what I say. Don't question any of it. If I ask you to do something, just do it."

"Fine." Yukiko sat on the bed, and closed her eyes.

XXX

Minako's voice suddenly became serious, like someone reciting a precise formula. "You are a single point."

In Yukiko's closed eyes, she saw a black view. Nothing existed around her, she wasn't sure she existed either. There was only the infinite spreading blackness, in which she felt herself flow.

When her mother spoke those words, she felt the flow stop. She hated that. She hated how her mother made the flow stop. Like a rock in the center of a flowing river, the flow pushed against her and moved around her, threatening to uproot her from her position. She had no will, though, so she stood motionless in the center of that flow. It pushed. She resisted. So it was.

"You are a line."

She felt herself spreading. She became a line parallel to the flow of the river. The river flowed against her, and she stood in the center standing against its flow, but now she was an infinite line, splitting the river into two halves. Each half now pushed against every point along her entire length, and she felt like she was going to break. The dark was too powerful, and she, like an insufficient vessel, was to be shattered by its assault.

"You are a circle."

She felt her line retract from its infinity. The length became finite once more, and the ends began to wriggle like the head and tail of a snake. The head sought the tail, and the tail the head. Eventually, they found each other, and the head bit the tail, forming a perfect ring of self-inclusion. Outside the ring, the river had turned into a swelling ocean, but inside there was pure tranquility. A single point within the ring, at the very center, began to glow. Yukiko was the ring, but she felt herself drawn to that point. She slowly constricted herself, her diameter shrinking until there was almost no empty space within. Only the point remained, with the faintest outline of dark separating it from the ring that was Yukiko.

Then she stopped, for she felt she could no longer continue to constrict herself, lest she break. The point began to glow more brightly, its light spreading and forming a pillar leading directly upwards, perpendicular to the plane on which Yukiko had been moving. As the pillar rose, she saw a form at the top, holding out a hand to her.

She rose, spinning as she ascending the pillar in her ring form.

Soon, she reached the top of the pillar. There, the same form awaited her as was in her dream.

XXX

I see you have returned, he said.

I have come to purge myself of falsehood, Yukiko answered.

How do you wish to do that?

Yukiko constricted around his form of light. I cannot do it on my own, she said.

You mean to force me into your service?

I did as you said. I focused on my centermost point, nurtured it, let it expand. You are the result. I merely require you uphold your end of the bargain.

So you did, so you did. Very well, then. Are you prepared to accept the responsibilities that I will place upon you?

Whatever they may be, I take them.

Even if it saps you of your very will to live?

Anything would be preferable to the hell I have endured till now. I wish never to hurt another again, consumed by some unconscious power lurking deep inside of me. I wish to have full control of my actions, to do with my powers as I see fit.

I am thou, and thou art I, he said. From the sea of thy soul, I come.

Yukiko tightened around him, and broke the barrier of light around him.

I am the Light unto the world, and thou shalt inherit me.

His body felt unbelievably hot, like it would burn her, but she knew she was safe. She tightened further, and felt him begin to break.

I am thou, and thou art I, he said. An thou accept my burden, thou shalt illuminate the Earth and Moon. Thy hand shall be against all men, and all their hands against thee. He who strike thee shall be cursed, and he who bless thee shall partake in your light.

I am thou, and thou art I, Yukiko replied. She tightened further. The force caused him to break in two, horizontally at the abdomen. She then disengaged of her ring form. Her head coiled around his head, and her tail around his feet.

Now, you shall become your True Self, he said. But first you must finalize the ritual.

Yukiko swallowed his head.

She then writhed, as she felt the light within her. It burned her innards. The pillar she was on began to fall, and she began hurtling toward the dark sea below.

As she fell, she looked down and saw the dark waters. Within them, curses arose. Arms white contrasted against the black water, and stretched to pull her in. Caught in their grasp, she wriggled. Still, her serpentine form could not escape the thick leathery palms that grabbed her.

Though she saw no form external, she heard a voice in her head.

"Shine."

Obeying the command from within, she felt cracks appear in her skin. Light poured out like fire from her cold black skin.

The hands holding on to her began to slacken their grip, but still they held on.

The cracks spread, and as her skin fell apart, she spoke.

"I expel you, curses. You may no longer dwell within me, as you have. You shall be rigidly circumscribed, and outside those limits you will never go."

The hands redoubled their efforts, trying to pull her body apart. If they could kill her, she could not enslave them.

However, it was too late.

Yukiko's body was almost entirely skinless. Only her head retained a full covering, and even that now began to crumble away.

Burn, she thought.

Immediately, the hands grabbing her were immolated. Their ashes sank into the black sea.

I think I should like to retain a mask, Yukiko thought. The skin on her head began to reform, such that she was now a serpent of pure white light, with a head of darkest night.

XXX

"Yukiko?" The voice of her mother called to her, calling her out from herself.

Yukiko opened her eyes. She saw the she had apparently fallen asleep on the bed. She raised a hand to her brow, and realized that it was covered in sweat. She suddenly felt hot in her whole body, and began clawing at her clothing.

Her mother quickly rose. She had a bottle of water in her hand. She pushed Yukiko down against the bed, and tipped the bottle into her mouth.

The cold liquid flowed into her mouth. She nearly choked on it, but it soothed her throat. She had not known how dry it was, but the water's coolness let her know the dryness by its opposite. The pleasure of her thirst's relief was exquisite, and she calmed down. Her body cooled, and she began to feel as normal.

She quickly drank all the water in the bottle, and felt the heat drain from her blood. She now only wanted to sleep.

"A success, it seems," Minako said. "All right. Congratulations, Yukiko. Your True Self now lives within you. You must now fulfill his duties, without being consumed by his light. The fact that you have survived the ordeal means that you must have taken on a mask; a persona. This mask will protect you from total dissolution, so you must never let it break."

I know, I think... I just want to sleep.

Minako's voice held her back from the relief that she sought.

"You are the culmination of what we in the Amagi family have worked for, since the beginning. As the matriarch, I cannot help but be filled with pride. I implore you to go forth, and exercise Judgment on the wicked."

She paused.

"But... as your mother, I want you to be happy. I don't know how you can balance that with the power that lives within you, but that is something for you to figure out for yourself. I will be there to support you, but I can do nothing for you if you do not extend your hand first."

Minako bent down, and kissed Yukiko.

Yukiko's eyes were closed, but she felt warmth on her forehead.

Minako stood up, and went to the door.

"Now, sleep," she said. A door opened, then hung a moment before closing.

"I love you," Minako said.

The door shut.

* * *

Heyo.

Yukiko's can now use Amaterasu's power freely. Also I kind of like Minako, she's very cute. Well, maybe that's authorial bias. Hmm.

This chapter is probably more influenced than the last chapter by Jung's Red Book, I think. All that inner dialogue stuff is pretty prominent in there.

Listened to, among other things, Queen II; being Queen's 2nd studio album. Really good stuff, they're my favourite for a reason.

Speaking of, I've begun an Eva rewatch... Too many feelings come up when I watch it, and honestly not all of it's pleasant. But I'm confident it's a good thing to confront them. I mustn't run away.

See y'all next time!


	7. The King of Conquerors

What is this headache...

Waver Velvet held his head in his hands. He had just woken up, still unsure whether he'd be worthy of the Command Seals. He had gotten hold of a relic, though, so he knew there was a pretty good chance of it. Besides, all those blowhards at the Clock Tower were nothing compared to him. Nothing! He bet by the time he was their age, he'd be able to teach their classes in his sleep.

Idiot Archibald. Insulting his essay? It was perfectly backed up, research showing the validity of all of his points. Clearly, it was only an expression of his own insecurities, that he chose to pick on a student who was more intelligent than he was. Lord El-Melloi must think himself too far above mere students, especially ones without much lineage, to even consider that they might be right and he wrong.

What a stupid aristocracy they had over there, anyway. Elevating men and women from the old families to high rank, encouraging them to look down on everyone else... this was nothing but a recipe for incompetence at the highest levels, as everyone up there had their head too far up their own ass to know what to do about anything.

Well, too late for them now. I have the relic and I'll win this War.

...I just have to do something about this headache, first.

Waver, one hand covering his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, used the other to throw the thick blanket off of himself. It was way too heavy for this weather, and he realized he had been sweating all throughout the night. His cotton pajamas, blue with white pinstripes, were soaked around the underarms.

"Another thing to wash," he muttered.

He stood up. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, as if the headache were interrupting the nervous signals from his brain to his feet. His bare heel hit the ground as he moved to the door of his bedroom.

_creak_

The old wood complained as he opened the door. "Shut up," he told the door.

He left the room, and closed the door behind him.

_creak_

"I told you to shut up," he muttered angrily. He wasn't in a very good mood this morning.

Deciding to leave the door for now, he ventured toward the bathroom. Looking at the carpeting covering the upstairs hallway, and the paintings on the walls, he wondered what sort of people lived here. They were probably still asleep in their bedroom. They seemed nice, but he didn't know much about them.

Well, the longer they slept, the happier he was. He felt a bit guilty about taking advantage of them like that, but he felt better about it since he wasn't really hurting them at all. He knew how to fine-tune the potions he was putting in their drinks, so as to avoid any adverse effects. You had to be careful with old people. Bodies get weak, fragile... the last thing he wanted was to find that he had killed innocent people in his quest.

The Mages' Association had a rule about outsiders who witnessed Magecraft. They were made to forget about it, or eliminated. It was a rule Waver had always hated, one he felt smacked of a sense of elitism and selfishness. Wanting to concentrate all the knowledge and power of Magecraft in the old families. Sure, they said that all they wanted was to research a Way to the Root, but if that was the case why make Magecraft such an exclusive art? Invite to the Clock Tower anyone who showed promise, so that they too could contribute to the endless chain of research. Doing things this way only stagnated the search for Truth, which disgusted Waver.

Truth is paramount, and I shall win the Grail and find it. Show those bastards.

He entered the bathroom, making sure to open the door slowly. The creaking just made his headache worse, and he couldn't afford that. He opened the medicine cabinet, and found what he was looking for.

Magecraft was an excellent thing to study, and had provided Waver with many hours of bliss whiled away in libraries. But that appreciation for the rituals of old didn't mean he couldn't appreciate modern science, and what better triumph of science was there than the small white convex cylinder in his hand?

Aspirin. He popped it in his mouth, took a small paper cup next to the sink, and took a drink of water to wash it down.

He already felt better, even though the medicine couldn't possibly have been metabolized that quickly.

He checked his reflection in the mirror. Dark brown hair, messed up by his sleep, covered his face. He looked terrible, haggard.

Well, who could blame him? He had been running around for a week, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the people at the Clock Tower who wouldn't have been terribly happy to learn about what he did with Archibald's relic. Then, making it to Japan on Satou's advice, he hypnotized an old couple who lived on a ley line near Fuyuki into thinking he was their grandson. That itself was a real ordeal; it drained his mana every second the spell was active, and he had to keep it up whenever they were awake.

Still, Satou wasn't an idiot. The Inaba ley lines were really great, and Waver could feel his mana recharged just by being on top of them. They ran through Fuyuki, mixing with the ones that fuelled the Holy Grail ritual, but very few people knew about them. They were his, and his alone, as far as this Holy Grail War was concerned, and he planned to use them well.

He lifted his right hand to brush aside the bangs that covered his face.

When he did so, he saw something in that mirror which made him entirely forget the pain in his head.

"YES!"

He held his hand in front of his face, admiring the back of it.

"Command Seals..." he gazed in wonder. He hardened his expression. "Of course, of course... it was only a matter of time." He nodded to himself. "The Grail recognized my talent, and is rewarding me with Command Seals. Clearly, it believes that I deserve to fight and win the Holy Grail War."

He balled his hand into a fist.

"It won't be disappointed."

XXX

Waver stood in the backyard of the old couple's house. He looked at the summoning circle he had drawn in the grass. Wasn't really possible to draw on grass with chalk, so he had had to use spray paint; he didn't think it would matter, though. Unlike the Mages' Association, the Grail wasn't bound by outdated traditions. As long as it worked, it didn't care how anachronistic his methods were.

He held the coffee cup in his hand, filled with mercury. It was covered in frilly patterns of spider lilies, which embarrassed him a bit, but he hadn't had the foresight to pack his own vessel for the invocation fluids.

Iskandar's shroud stood on a pedestal made up of old milk cartons. He hoped the King of Conquerors would forgive the ignoble circumstances of his rebirth when he saw how skilled his Master was.

Waver took a deep breath.

He held the mercury-filled cup in front of him in his left hand, raising it slightly above his head.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill," he said, the excitement rising within him. "As each is filled, so it is destroyed."

They'll cower before my Servant. I've basically won already. Maybe they'll be smart enough to surrender.

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

So what will I do after I win? I mean, the honour of winning a Holy Grail War is great and all, but I'll have access to the most powerful wish-granting artifact mankind has ever seen. I'll have to figure out what I'll use it for at some point...

"Upon it rests the cornerstone and the Archduke of Contracts. Become the wall that repels the gale."

I guess the main issue is that I won't have the chance to get my hands dirty, with my Servant doing all the work. I won't be able to demonstrate my own skills as much. Ah, well. That's the price you pay as a Master.

"The four gates close tightly. Burst forth from the Crown, and follow the winding road that leads to the Kingdom!"

Wonder what happened to Archibald, anyway. He probably just gave up when he realized the relic he had was a fake. Maybe he's even sent people after me, from the Association? Let 'em try. My Servant will stop anyone who tries to get me. And he can, too, especially with me behind him.

"I call to thee! Thy body, formed of my will; thy sword, enforcing my fate! An thou bend to my will, and my justice, heed the Grail's call and answer me!"

I bet Iskandar would be ecstatic to learn that I'm his Master. He studied a tonne of philosophy in life, so he'd certainly prize talent and training over bloodlines. I bet Archibald wouldn't have been able to discuss Homer with him like I would. I doubt he's even read it. Imagine, summoning a Servant without doing the research.

Idiot.

"Seven Heavens, clad in the Three Holy Souls, cast aside your shackles and come forth; o Guardian of the Scales!"

The summoning circle, which had been glowing this whole time, finally began to blaze with a great light. Waver kept his eyes open as long as he could, and just before he had to close them, he thought he glimpsed the form of a large, muscular man. Finally, the light filled his vision, and he had no choice.

There was a noise of rushing wind around him.

The wind stopped, and he felt it was safe. He had no idea what the historical Alexander had looked like, since there was no pictorial evidence or anything like that, so he didn't know what to expect. He didn't care, though; all that mattered was that his Servant would crush the others, and even if he was as short as all the history books said, they won't be able to underestimate his strength.

He opened his eyes.

Standing before him was a large man, almost a giant. He must've been 8 feet tall. Muscles rippling through his arms, chest, and thighs. Wearing a brilliant crimson shroud like a cape around himself, and armor encrusted with gold. A crown of red hair, and a short beard, also red. In his hand he held a short sword. He smiled at Waver.

Waver was amazed at the Servant. He knew he'd be strong, but... looking at him, and gauging his stats, he was truly amazed. He hadn't expected this... he had never thought that something like this would really happen. He knew he deserved it, and knew that he was good enough to do it, but to think it really could happen... it was too weird for him. He had to close his eyes, and open them again, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Boy!" The Servant - Iskandar - spoke, apparently confused. "What are you doing?"

"I...I-" Waver stammered. His... Servant! Talking to... him!

"What?" Iskandar walked over to him, and put his hand on Waver's shoulder. "Is this the first time you've done this? Don't tell me you were expecting someone else? Hmm..."

Iskandar was lost in thought for a moment, when he noticed that his hand was no longer on Waver's shoulder.

He bent down to the ground, trying to revive his Master's unconscious form. He was lying there with a look of confused ecstasy on his face, his limbs still. His toes were bent a bit.

Iskandar put his ear to his Master's chest, and was glad to hear a heartbeat. He flicked his Master's forehead with his index finger, causing him to open his eyes crying, and holding his hands to his head.

"Owww... It must've been a dream after all," Waver said. "What's wrong with me, that I actually thought the Grail would pick me, of all people? Maybe I should just give up... The aspirin wore off too... What'll I do now?"

"Good question," Iskandar said, from behind him.

"Well of _course_ it is, who do you think..." Waver froze. He took his hands away from his head, and turned around.

On seeing Iskandar's grinning face, he immediately remembered the events leading up to his fainting several minutes prior. His mouth opened in shock, and he pointed a finger at him.

"Y-You..." his finger shook. "Are you... really?"

Iskandar laughed heartily. "Of course! Who else would be summoned, with that shroud as a catalyst?"

"Then... then..." Waver lowered his finger, and looked down at the ground, then back at Iskandar. "It worked?"

Iskandar nodded.

"Oh, well that's nice, isn't it," Waver said. He tilted his head back, and stared at the heavens. "Hahahahahaaha! I did it!"

He faced Iskandar once more. A mad grin. "Hahahaha!" He touched Iskandar's face, feeling the shape of his cheeks and the texture of his beard. "Prickly."

Iskandar seemed amused at this. "What a strange Master you are. Tell me, boy, what is your name?"

"My name? My name..." Waver seemed a bit confused. "Waver. Yeah, Waver Velvet." He removed his hand from Iskandar's face, stared at it for a moment, and held it out. "Shake."

"Nice to meet you, Waver," Iskandar said. He took the hand, and shook it vigorously. Letting go, he said, "So, what is your wish for the Grail?"

"What do you mean? What Grail?"

"Well, the Holy Grail. The one we Servants are summoned to win for our Masters. Surely, you know of it?"

"Oh, yeah... that one. I almost forgot about it. Why do you ask?"

"I must have assurance that my Master is worthy of me," Iskandar said. "If his wish is to use the Grail's power for cowardly aims, I cannot put myself with him. In that case, I may as well disappear here. So," he leaned in close to Waver. Waver could feel his hot breath on his face. "Tell me, Waver. What is your wish?"

"Well, I... wait. I can't have you disappearing, not after I finally managed to summon you."

"Hmm? There's no need to worry about that, boy. I doubt you have particularly evil desires-"

Waver raised his right hand to the sky, and the Command Seals began to glow. "Servant! By this Command Seal, I order you to stay he-"

_flick_

Iskandar's index finger slammed into Waver's forehead with such force as to immediately render him unconscious. His body flew twenty feet.

Iskandar once more walked over to his Waver's unconscious form, and looked down at his face. It was frozen in an expression of pride.

He shook his head.

_Truly, a strange Master._

_But... there is something within him, the makings of a great leader. Perhaps he will make a fine addition to my army, one day._

_I merely have to train him._

* * *

Hey y'all. Hope you liked the chapter!

Waver's friend, Satou, is named after the protagonist of _Welcome to the N.H.K._ I read the novel recently, and it shook me. Reminded me of like a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for the otaku. Speaking of Hitchhiker's Guide, I realize in hindsight that the way I wrote Waver here, he resembles Arthur Dent a bit. Hmm.

Read Hitchhiker's Guide, by the way. Good series.

I think the next two updates will finish our roster of Servants, then maybe we can get to the fun bits. (Truthfully, the Summoning scenes are my favourites in Fate/Zero, so this is probably why I keep dwelling on them, heh.)


	8. The King of Knights

"My love, I'll do whatever I can to support you. As my husband, and dearest friend, you've shown me all that I could ever want to see about the outside world. This is just my way of showing appreciation. Your wish is beautiful, and it will create a happy world for Illya. To that end, I would be honoured to serve as the Grail Vessel."

Kiritsugu's wife, Irisviel, had said those words to him.

But now, when it was finally time to perform the ritual, he had to wonder: Did she really mean it? It hurt him to think she thought so little of her own life that she'd sacrifice it so readily. A part of him knew she was entirely sincere, but another part of him hated that.

All he wanted was to bring peace to the world. So why did he have to sacrifice those he loved? His wife meant more to him than anything, and the idea of a life without her was too terrible to contemplate. Having their daughter, Illyasviel, would be comfort, but no compensation. Nothing could compensate for anyone's loss; human beings were too unique for that.

He looked at her now, in the room Jubstacheit had set aside for the ritual. She smiled at him, a smile of purity and innocence. He could only feel a sense of despair when he looked at it. He could enjoy nothing more in this world, for he knew that all good things would be taken from him eventually.

Irisviel von Einzbern, the culmination - no, the precursor of the culmination - of the alchemy of the Einzbern magical family, holding the ancient relic.

Avalon, the crystallization of his most secret wishes. Kiritsugu was too much of a pragmatist to allow himself to think that he could achieve his ideals without its aid. Something within him resonated with it, and so he knew that the relic Acht had chosen was the most appropriate to him. When he had met Acht, it had seemed to him that the man knew more of his heart than Kiritsugu himself did.

He regretted having told Irisviel his dream. The hope it brought in her eyes created a strong quality of pain in him. It was like he had shot her with his Origin Bullet, and infused his own dream into her. It was frightening, the level of power he had over another living creature, homunculus or not. Whatever Irisviel's origins, she had definitely developed into something that could only be described as human, in her thoughts and emotions. He loved that about her, that despite being a machine in nature, she had transcended her limitations to achieve humanity.

Whereas he had been born a human, but had thrown it away at the time of the great fire on Arimago Island. Natalia had said to him, "Doing what you think you should, rather than what you want, is a task for a machine, not a human being."

He wished he could have followed her advice, but it seemed as if everything he did originated from that one defining event, and he could not escape it. He felt caught in the endless pangs of Samsara, the cycle of death and reincarnation. He didn't know how to reacquire his lost humanity. It seemed like he had already killed it.

But when he looked into Irisviel's eyes, he saw that the life and love he had put in her was very much alive. It had even resulted in a completely new person. Their child was the physical incarnation of their shared love, but beyond Illyasviel, he could sense Iri reflecting his love and hope back at him.

She _was_ his humanity, now.

Every time he killed, he had to turn off his emotions. Natalia had commented that he was a born assassin, who could immediately disconnect his emotions from his trigger finger, but she failed to realize the toll that takes. When he had finally convinced himself there was no more humanity left, things were easy. He could pretend that he was dead and gone, and now only the body of the man named 'Kiritsugu Emiya' still walked this earth. Then he could ignore the demands of his soul.

Irisviel showed him that this was a lie. A delusion.

He was not strong enough to go on pursuing his goals, and he feared that he would crack before the work was done. He was fairly confident in his abilities as a Magus-Killer, but he was deeply worried for his psychological health. In that sense, being with Iri was a boon to him, as she always managed to restore peace of mind to him. He was deeply grateful to her, and loved her and Illya more than any other.

"Kiritsugu," she said to him now, in the front of the pews. "Are you all right?"

"Iri," he said, brushing off her question. "Put the scabbard on the altar."

Irisviel did as he asked, though he could sense that some of his own worry was present in her face as well. Did she notice, he wondered.

He stood over the summoning circle. Acht had ensured it was readied, with all the necessary components, days in advance. Kiritsugu was not one for the ritualism and formality that the Einzberns were so fond of, but he co-operated with them for the sake of peace.

He held his hand over the circle. Avalon on the altar before him began to glow, even before he uttered a word. It was as if it had sensed his thoughts, and responded to them. How silly, he thought.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill." His voice was even, though his heart felt the import of the moment. "As each is filled, so it is destroyed."

A voice rang out in his head. It was the sound of a girl, asking him to kill her. Was that the ultimate fate of all things? To fill with love, and light, and then to crush them under the boot of darkness?

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

The steel of a bullet was a stronger thing than soft, pliable silver, but those were the two forces that ruled this world. Kiritsugu knew this well, and had frequently exchanged steel for silver when he felt it necessary to further his plans. Men died as much to silver as steel, and they both sickened him.

"Upon it rests the cornerstone and the Archduke of Contracts."

THe main difference between human contracts and magical contracts, was that magical ones were inviolable. He had had to kill people before to collect on promised payments. If contracts were the cornerstone of this world, then the world must be founded on magical means to have any basis in reality. In order to support the new world he wanted to fashion, he would have to employ the detestable means of True Magic to create the foundation, even if it killed him. Magecraft required sacrifices; Equivalent Exchange was the most basic principle upon which all others rested. The True Magics were something beyond even that, and their price would be commensurately higher.

Well, he was prepared.

"I call to thee! Thy body, formed of my will. Thy sword, enforcing my fate!"

If Kiritsugu's fate were enforced and carried out to its logical conclusion, it would be like shooting an Origin Bullet into the heart of the World itself. He would untie the fibers that created human nature in its present form, cut and retie them in a manner more suited to his own nature. If any sword could enforce this, it would be the Sword of Promised Victory. So he put his faith in the King who loved his subjects, with the hope that he of the Table Round would willingly pledge his sword.

It was always easier when all involved parties were aligned to a common goal.

"An thou bend to my will, and my justice, heed the Grail's call and answer me!"

Most men would be tempted to answer the Grail's call, as it promised them infinite power over other men, or perhaps over themselves. Kiritsugu had no such selfish motives, as he had convinced himself that it was a foreordained fact that he would end up suffering and dead by the end of this. He merely wanted his end to mean something, as a man who could be proud of his death. He trusted himself not to waver in the face of the opportunity to use the Grail for anything else, for there was nothing - would be nothing, after Iri was gone - within him that could want anything, save that.

"O Seven Heavens, clad in the Three Holy Souls! Burst free from your shackles, and arise, o Guardian of the Scales!"

The room filled with light, though the light could not penetrate Kiritsugu's darkened heart. He kept his eyes open the whole time.

Irisviel gasped at the shining light.

XXX

Where am I?

Oh. There is grass. A meadow, filled with life, and the joy of light. The sun shines, and the wind sings. The sky is high, the unreachable eternity of our salvation.

There is a girl. Her golden hair reflects the sun, sending rays of light into my heart.

Her clear eyes reflect the sky, and I can see in them the promise of everlasting peace.

She smiles at me, and I find her arm outstretched. I grasp it nervously, and she laughs as she leads me forward on the endless grass.

As we walk, I ask her if she will leave.

"If I do, I shall return. My remaining with you is eternal; separations are only temporary, and will be judged as such by the great cycle."

Despite the confusion her words brought me, they carried a strong security. I needn't worry about losing her.

My love.

Soon we reach an incline in the flat plain. I am scared of ascending it, fearful that I may never descend back to safety.

But she urges me forward, and I cannot bear to lose her shining countenance.

The peak is invisible, but as we grow closer, I make out a shining blade. It is embedded in a stone, a symbol of the destructive powers bound to a secure foundation, and nullified.

When we reach the sword in the stone, she urges me to pull it out.

I do not want to, but I could not bear to make her sad.

I try, but it only comes out halfway. No amount of effort on my part will do anything more.

I fall to the ground in anguish, worried that she will be disappointed in me.

She just laughs at my clumsiness, and with a light stroke of a single hand, she pulls it out.

The sword in her hand glows gold, and she floats above the ground.

She raises it, and aims for the stone in which it was encased.

I call to her, telling her not to destroy it. There is still much within that stone I need, and I cannot lose it yet.

She looks at me. "Whom do you desire? The sword or the stone?"

"I... I want both. Can't I have both?"

She shakes her head. "No, you cannot."

I cry.

"I cannot choose," I tell her.

"Then you shall have neither."

She turns toward me, and lowers her sword onto me.

XXX

Kiritsugu returned to himself. The vision he had just seen must have been connected to the ritual, the work of the Grail in some way. It troubled him, but he put it aside. His Servant stood before him.

"I ask you," the voice said, its owner hidden behind obscuring mist. "Are you my Master?"

"I am," he said. "You are the Servant Saber, whose True Name is Arthur Pendragon?"

The mist cleared.

Kiritsugu was taken aback by the face he saw behind it, fixed in a solemn gaze at him.

It was that of the woman in his vision.

"I am Arturia Pendragon, Queen of the Britons. I have been summoned into the Saber Class. My sword is yours, Master."

"I expected a man, but no matter," Kiritsugu said. "I shall expect you to fulfill your duties as Servant; until I give you further orders, you are to protect the woman behind me."

Saber looked at the delicate form behind her Master.

"Understood," she said. "Her life shall be as my own. You need not worry; her safety is guaranteed."

He smiled. "I hope so."

XXX

Saber stood by the window in the Einzbern estate, as Irisviel sat at a table nearby.

"Why does Master not keep me dematerialized," Saber asked. "It seems inefficient of him, to keep me in physical form when there are no threats nearby."

"Kiritsugu has his reasons," Irisviel said, with a note of longing in her voice. "He always knows what he's doing, even if it's not obvious to others. But Saber," she lifted her face to the Servant, who turned to her. "I think in this case it's quite clear."

Saber tensed.

"Is there a threat of which I am unaware, milady?"

"No, that's not what I meant." Irisviel laughed. "Just that he probably thought I'd be lonely here without him, so he wanted me to have some company."

Saber's fingers relaxed their grip on what would have been her sword, had she manifested it.

This era was strange and wonderful in its own ways, but in other senses it really wasn't very different from her own. Much like she and her Knights had quested for the Holy Grail, so too Magi left their families to do the same.

She knew that the wives of most knights were happy - indeed, proud - to see their husbands off, but the loneliness was something that plagued them. Especially the ones of higher status; it seemed that they had a greater tendency to the cloistered life. But that was really just one reason among many for a knight to be absent; it was something their women had to get used to, eventually.

She wondered how Guinevere had spent her time.

Well, she didn't need to wonder. The highest knight of the Table Round, Sir Lancelot du Lac, took it upon himself to keep her entertained when her husband was away.

He had been extremely ashamed of his actions, but in truth, Arturia was glad that he had supported Guinevere during those times. She cared deeply for the Queen, and often felt torn between obligations to Country and People on the one hand, and the Queen on the other. Lancelot gave her the opportunity to pursue the work of ruling the nation without any qualms about it.

For this reason, she had not pursued strict justice for him, and was secretly happy when he had escaped burning at the stake.

That was another of the changes in this era, was it not? Justice, generally speaking, was far more lenient than it had been in her time. Certainly, many people were imprisoned for their crimes, but the death penalty was only reserved for the most heinous offences. And there were public advocates to support the accused, who received fair trials in public courts of law!

Truly, the ideals she had fought for, a just country under just laws, had been realized beyond her wildest dreams. A state that serves the common man, without being his oppressor.

If things had progressed so, did it really matter if Britain had succumbed to destruction? Which was more important, the land or what it stood for?

"It is my honour, Lady Irisviel," Saber said with a light bow.

"You know, this 'Lady Irisviel' business is a bit satisfying, in an odd way..." Irisviel mused. "I almost feel like asking you to call me by my name only, without title or honourific, but I'm enjoying this far too much."

Saber smiled. "I am glad."

Irisviel stood, and came to Saber. She clasped Saber's hands in her own.

"Hey, Saber. I'd like to get some fresh air; would you care to accompany me? My knight."

"Of course, milady."

Saber opened the door leading out of the room, and gestured to Irisviel to exit first. Irisviel made a light bow of her own, then went through the doorway.

Saber looked about the room before she left, just in case. The nature of an enemy was that they always lurked behind corners, in places where one would least expect them to be. Her Master seemed the type who would rebuke her for needless caution, wasting time.

Old habits died hard, surviving even the transition from life, to the Throne of Heroes.

Satisfied, she closed the door, and followed Irisviel down the corridor.

Irisviel walked with a light gait, almost skipping. Saber was glad to see her charge so happy, and her carefree manner reminded her of her own life.

The carelessness with which she had lived her earliest years, before drawing the Sword of Promised Victory.

Those were truly dreamlike days, so hazy on the very bounds of her memory. She had near-perfect recollection of certain moments in her life, but very little of the days before she took upon herself the royal destiny.

All she could remember was light, happy footsteps. Running on the grass, playing with the other children. Her white clothes took on dirt and grass stains, but she didn't care. The fun of those days came back to her now, and she felt she could understand and appreciate how Irisviel felt right now, and quite apart from her obligations to her Master, she wanted to preserve that happiness.

The corridor was dark, lit only by fluorescent lights intermittently placed along its length.

"Almost there, Saber!" Irisviel called, running ahead a bit.

She reached a wooden door with black iron bindings upon it, and opened it.

A black automobile waited outside the door, which seemed to lead to a driveway. Irisviel excitedly opened the door on the driver's side, and jumped in. She honked the horn.

_beep beep_

She opened her window and stuck her head out. "Saber~! Come on!"

Saber came to the passenger's side, and opened the door.

"Irisviel, I thought we were going to take a walk-"

"Heheh... This is much more fun, though, wouldn't you agree?" Irisviel wore a devilish smile, reflecting deep wells of impish mischief from the lowest reaches of her soul.

"Your wish is my command, milady," Saber said, getting into the car gingerly.

"Indeed it is, Saber, indeed it is." Her smile was beginning to worry Saber, but she calmed herself with the knowledge that her charge was merely having a bit of fun. And if so, who was she to argue?

Saber smiled reluctantly, and began to put on her seatbelt.

"Oh, don't bother with that," Irisviel said, her hand on the stick shift.

"But it is the law in this country, is it not? Furthermore," Saber said, looking at Irisviel's waist, "I see you are not wearing a seatbelt yourself, milady."

"Yes, and?" Irisviel was now fiddling with the mirrors, holding one eye closed in a perpetual wink as she endeavoured to make the reflection angle just so.

"And it is my duty to ensure your safety, Irisviel."

"Kiritsugu worries too much, sometimes," Irisviel said, still checking the mirrors. "I have you with me. What else do I need to be safe?"

"I cannot protect you from an incoming car, or building."

Irisviel left the mirrors, and turned to Saber. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted, and her face smiling. "If that becomes an issue, I will be glad if you would use your Invisible Air to propel us out of the path of danger."

Saber was shocked. She grabbed Irisviel's shoulders. "Milady, I cannot guarantee the accuracy of that skill of mine. It was not made for transport."

Irisviel pouted.

"Milady, I am serious. My honour as a knight rests upon my due diligence to keep you safe. Please, humour me."

Irisviel sighed. "Fine... I'll put my seatbelt on."

Saber took her hands of Irisviel's shoulders. "Thank you, Irisviel."

"My pleasure, Saber." Irisviel locked her seatbelt into place. "In the end, the last thing I'd want to do is worry you. Your concern is far too touching for me to make light of it."

Saber sat, calmly waiting.

"All right!" Irisviel pulled the stick back. "Let's go!" Her foot slammed on the accelerator, and with a screech of the tires, they sped down the stone-paved road.

As they passed the scenery on either side at lightning speed, weaving in and out of lanes, Saber was impressed at Irisviel's driving ability. That is, at her ability to drive like this without collisions.

Truly, admirable.

Watching pedestrians on the sidewalk duck for cover, and other cars swerving out of the way, she understood the pride Irisviel projected through her driving. It was as if everyone who saw her respected her as the King of the Road, and made way for her passage.

"Wahooo!" Irisviel shouted in glee, as the car drifted over a ninety-degree turn.

Saber saw that she had the same look on her face that she herself had worn during jousts. The rush of wind as the horse galloped forward, the cold steel of the lance in hand, the fear of being impaled by the enemy, the excitement of overcoming the challenge and emerging victorious - Irisviel felt all these things, Saber knew.

"Thank you, Irisviel."

"What was that, Saber? I didn't- WHOOOOO!" The car managed to wind its way on a perpendicular path through two lanes of traffic. The cacophony of car horns behind them made conversation impossible.

_Thank you, Irisviel, for showing me what it was like. I had forgotten - no, I had tried to forget, but I was unable._

_I suppose Kiritsugu must indeed be wise, just as you say. Not only did he think to protect you by assigning me to your guard, but he may have known that your influence would help me regain the joy I had lost. Perhaps a lack of joy makes efficient, fair rule easier, but I may have acted too rashly in simply jettisoning that part of me from myself. Perhaps the epitome of kingship is a king who loves both her people, and herself._

_Perhaps there is indeed something to be gained by being happy on the throne._

Irisviel now drove the car over a small hill, and their speed caused them to remain in the air for a brief moment before crashing back down.

The inside of the car was shaken by the impact, and Irisviel turned to Saber. "Saber, are you all right? I'm sorry about that... I didn't see the incline."

"No, Irisviel, worry not. I am quite well. In fact," Saber sported her own devilish smile now, "What say we double back and do that again?"

Irisviel's eyes brightened. "I _like_ this side of you, Saber."

She moved the car back in front of the hill. "You ready?"

"Whoo," Saber said.

The car flew.

* * *

Hello! Hope you liked this chapter!

I suppose I was in the mood for a bit of fluff. I've not written Kiritsugu nor Irisviel before; honestly, I think the way I wrote Iri is very reminiscent of Taiga Fujimura. Or, well, her driving persona is.

I finished this while listening to Asian Kung Fu Generation (it's long, so call them AKFG or ajikan)'s album, Kimi Tsunagi Five M, as well as the OST for the nonexistent Tsukihime anime. Which is a very good OST, I highly recommend it.

Only one Servant remains for the next chapter. See y'all then!


	9. The King of Heroes

"So, Kirei, what do you think?"

Tokiomi Tohsaka asked his star pupil, in the deep basement of his magical workshop.

Kirei looked around himself, at the jewels on the table, the ancient grimoires in the bookshelves, the intricately inscribed Summoning Circle on the floor. Indeed, it seemed a most stately setup. Appropriate to his Master's wealth and prestige.

Kirei wondered to himself. What sort of comparison might be made, between the Summoning Ritual of his Master, a man who had been training for this moment all his life, and who had learned from his ancestors the secrets of the Grail, and his own? Kirei had certainly done well enough in his own performance of the ritual - evidenced by his Servant, standing next to him - but was it indeed the same? He felt almost as if his own performance was a fake, a pale imitation of the true act of his Master.

Being not of magical lineage, his native Magic Circuits were a bit anomalous. Not terribly so; not outside the realm of possibility, but outliers nonetheless.

He wondered how his Master thought of him. Perhaps as a dog, come to lap up the secrets of Magecraft? Perhaps a son adopted?

No, he knew the truth. His Master thought of him only as a tool for the achievement of his own ends.

He had had plenty of opportunity to come to this conclusion, during their 3 years of training. Tokiomi would always display impeccable patience with Kirei's errors, few though they were. Kirei felt as if he were almost mocking him.

He thought of a particular incident.

XXX

Once, Tokiomi had been instructing Kirei on the method of precise Pranic focus. It was apparently necessary to imbue one's Servant with the highest possible stats, but it required a supreme amount of control of the ambient flow. The Tohsaka manor was built upon a primary ley line in Fuyuki City, so the magical energy flowing through the air - especially _underneath_ the ground itself, hence the workshop's subterranean location - was more than sufficient to allow for a great deal of prana to be focused. Assuming the Magus' ability.

Of course, it also raised the possible risks, should the focus go wrongly.

Tokiomi held his hands out in front of him, facing a silhouette of a man painted on paper nailed to the opposite wall. The man's arms were outstretched, and upon his body was superimposed a network of nodes and connections. Kirei was already familiar with the nature of that network; it was something any member of the Assembly would be intimately aware of.

The Tree of Life.

The diagram, showing the paths through which the energy of life traveled from God Most High, down to the lowest realms of Hell. The nodes, places where the energy collected, and was transformed in its valency.

The silhouette was marked with a circle saying 'Kether' on its skull; Hebrew for the 'Crown.'

It was at this point that the energy arose from the navel of power of the supernal realm; from there, it flowed down to all the other nodes, eventually reaching 'Malkhuth' - 'Kingship' - at the feet.

And so the Creator bestowed his beneficence upon Man, the lowest of his creatures. Yet, though Man was the most fallen of Creation, being subject to the taint of Original Sin, he was also the object of Kingship. The Lord wished not rule over animals, plants, or lifeless rocks. He had made Man in His Image, that he may be one with him.

Kirei saw that the silhouette's ankles were pierced. As were the arms; the right one marked with 'Hesed,' 'Love'; and the left with 'Gebhurah,' 'Power.'

Truly, the Christ was but the embodiment in this mortal realm of the Tree of Life. And just as He rose and fell, it is the nature of the Tree to rise with divine Light, and after expressing the Light within it, fall once more into the deepest Darkness.

So too, his Master explained, was the nature of a Magus' Magic Circuits. One must fill them with magical energy, aim them toward a specific end, and express their nascent potential. If this were done correctly, the harmony of the rhythmic movements of the Tree of Life as it was expressed in the natural world would vibrate in tandem, and the effect of one's own magical output would be increased exponentially.

"Abzug, in die Wasserflusse, nehm ich Vogel!"

Tokiomi's controlled voice, loud and ringing, summoned two doves in the air before him. They danced around each other, their forms indistinct and fluid.

Kirei watched as they molded together at the climax of their dance, becoming a transcendent pillar that seemed to illustrate the brightest heavens at their summit.

Tokiomi then clapped his hands together, and the pillar collapsed in on itself, as if matching his movements. Finally, it became a single point of power, through which was reflected the depths of Kirei's soul.

He saw the roiling chaos inside that point from where he stood, transfixed.

"Der Tag ist Nacht."

The point blinkered out of existence, and Kirei was returned to reality.

"So you see," Tokiomi said. "That is how it is done."

"Master, might I do the same?" Kirei had asked, tentatively.

"Of course you might," Tokiomi replied. "In fact, you must. I am fully aware of your inborn potential, and I would be remiss if any student of mine would fail to exert himself to the fullest in his magical studies. After all, you are to serve an important role in this coming War."

Kirei was silent. Which role did he mean?

"Now, stand as I did, Kirei."

Kirei imitated his Master's stance, holding his palms outward against the silhouette.

"Picture it in your mind. Form a complete, conceptual understanding of exactly what it is you are gathering the energy _for_. The magical energy is much like water; it will not gather without a sufficient force circumscribing its domain. This domain is the end to which you gather it. Know it well, and the flow will go of its own accord."

Kirei thought. What is it I want? I...

The vision of heaven shown in the pillar was beautiful, certainly. But why does it not entice me, so much as the end of the spectacle? While I can appreciate intellectually the beauty of the vision of heaven, I felt not the same visceral tug towards it as I did to that final, singular point.

A small hole in the cosmos, I looked within it and saw Chaos. I saw the stormy seas, and felt my innermost soul long for it.

I... I want to see that again.

I want to see its tumbling depths, expressed as they are through the visual parable of a ship on treacherous waters. But I know, truly, that that parable is no more than a convenient device for human eyes. No, beyond that imagery something more... essential, lurks. It is that which attracts my heart.

"Well, Kirei? Have you fixed it in your mind?"

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent. Now, recite the incantation to increase your focus. If all goes well, as I expect, I shall be witnessing a truly miraculous phenomenon."

Kirei calmed his nerves. His entire body was on razor's edge, due to the excitement of the concepts he was considering, deep in his subconscious. He began at his feet, tensing, then relaxing the tight muscles there. As he worked his way up, he began to recite the prayer.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy Name. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

From his navel below, he was entirely relaxed. His hands, the tools through which the visualization would become real, were next.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from Evil."

All that remained now were the muscles in his face, the ones through which his expression and perception of the World were mediated. Essential to the practice of Magecraft was one's perception, for that determined the potency and affinity of one's abilities. Too strongly bound to the World, and one's inborn mana reserves dried up; whereas the Magus too deeply tied to himself would be entirely unable to harness the ambient magical power, as Kirei was now attempting to do. Balance was key.

"For thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory; forever and ever. Amen."

The right eye looked outward, the left eye inward, and the Third Eye looked above and below.

The focus inside Kirei coalesced to a concrete image of what he sought.

He sweated, and felt the energy welling up. It came from his spine, flowing through his ribs and collecting in his heart. It then traveled to his collarbone, where it split into two paths. Each path went through a different shoulder. The right path was light, the left was dark. He endeavoured to preserve balance in the two.

The energies came to his palms, and he willed them to be released.

A crackling of thunder was heard, and before him, Kirei saw a red and black ball of lightning flashing in a swirling vortex.

He smiled.

He slowly increased the energy output, and the ball grew.

When it was almost the size of his head, he felt it grow unstable. But he couldn't help but keep feeding it energy; it was so beautiful, and he desired it so.

"Der Junge ist tott."

Tokiomi's voice cut through Kirei's reverie, and he saw the phenomenon he had summoned quickly blink into nonexistence.

"Master, why?" Kirei asked, in shock.

"Kirei," Tokiomi said, "Magecraft is a noble pursuit. Indeed, there is none nobler, and no aim higher than the Swirl of the Root. It is this to which I, and all other Magi, aspire. To this goal we devote our lives, those of our children, and so on; all in the hopes that one of our line might achieve this enlightenment."

Kirei was silent.

"And Kirei," Tokiomi said, "I consider you as much my student as I do Rin. Therefore, I applaud your efforts to create a strong manifestation of power. However, rather than following the essence of the form I demonstrated, why did you direct your attention to its final moments of decay? Is this perhaps due to your background?"

"What do you mean, Master?"

"Never mind, think nothing of it. In the future, I will request that you pay closer attention to the central aspects of any rituals I show you. That will be all for today, Kirei."

Tokiomi walked to the steps leading up out of the workshop.

XXX

Ever since then, Kirei had had the nagging feeling that Tokiomi had a certain detachment from him; that he was unable - or unwilling - to see Kirei as a human being, rather than a tool.

Certainly, if these feelings were indeed accurately reflecting reality, they would be all the more true with regard to Tokiomi's vie of his Servant.

To Kirei, Servants were beings to be respected. They had all achieved a measure of immortality by doing great deeds. They were almost incarnations of the zeitgeists of the eras from which they came, the crystallized forms of the hopes and ideals of their origins. Kirei wanted to learn the things they could teach him, for he felt that perhaps by doing so he might learn some divine truth, deep within himself, that lay eternally outside his grasp.

Perhaps Tokiomi's desire for the Root was similar, in a sense; but his Master's manner occasionally infuriated him. A mere ideal was not worth sacrificing one's life for, nor making others suffer. Such was evil, especially in the absence of any concrete gain.

He wondered why his Father had decided to strike this deal with Tokiomi in the first place. Wasn't he aware of the man's utter lack of devotion to God? It seemed as if Tokiomi must have some... hidden good attributes, of which his Father knew and Kirei did not. Still, they must be fairly deeply hidden.

"Kirei?" Tokiomi said.

Kirei noticed his Master was still looking at him. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw his Servant Assassin was looking at him as well, with a trace of anxiety.

"Yes, Master," Kirei said. "It is most well-equipped; I look forward to the Summoning."

"Indeed, Kirei," Tokiomi said. "I hope not to disappoint you; the relic I have procured is sure to evoke the most powerful of all Servants."

Tokiomi gestured to a black leather case on the altar before him. Kirei saw that its insides were a rich, red velvet, with a rectangular pocket in the center, in which a light-brown, scaly object rested.

"Behold," Tokiomi said. "The skin shed by the first Snake at the dawning of our world. It stole the fruit of immortality, but could not escape the entropic curse in all things, by which they must needs return to the Root from whence they came. Or at least, make concessions to its pull."

"From dust to dust, as they say."

"Quite so, Kirei, quite so. Then, shall we begin?"

Kirei took the beaker of mercury from the table beside him, and handed it to Tokiomi, who accepted it gracefully.

Tokiomi cleared his throat.

He held the beaker over the circle, and tipped it slightly. It was nearly full to the brim, so even this shallow tilt was enough to bring forth several drops of the viscous, silver liquid.

As the first drops fell, Tokiomi intoned.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill. As each is filled, so it is destroyed."

The traces of the circle on the ground glowed with a red light, and Tokiomi adopted a subdued smile.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Upon it rests the cornerstone, and the Archduke of Contracts. And for the Ancestor, the great Master, Schweinorg."

Kirei wondered if the physical link of the Crest between the Magus and the Ancestor was of great import in the Summoning Ritual. He imagined it must be.

"Become the wall to repel the gale. The four gates close tightly. Burst forth from the Crown, and follow the winding road that leads to the Kingdom."

Smoke began to billow, obscuring the Summoning Circle from view.

"I call to thee! Thy body, formed of my will; thy sword, enforcing my fate! An thou bend to my will, and my justice, heed the Grail's call, and answer me!"

A crackling. Kirei could not see clearly what was happening within the cloud of smoke above the Circle, but he thought he saw vague outlines of lightning flashing within. Just like on that day.

"I shall become all that is good in the world, and destroy all that is evil. Seven Heavens, clad in the Three Holy Souls, cast aside your shackles and come forth; o Guardian of the Scales!"

The outlines of lightning danced around each other, melding into one single sphere of red light. Kirei was entranced by its motion, spinning on its axis. It grew, until it covered the entire diameter of the Circle. Then there was a sound of a thunderclap, the sphere disappeared, and the room shook.

Tokiomi's smile remained on his face, as the glass bottles rattled on the tables around him.

Soon, the smoke began to dissipate. A human form was visible within the Circle, and as it became clearer, Tokiomi's smile spread from ear to ear.

"We have won, Kirei! The Grail is as good as ours."

_Ours? Or yours?_ Kirei thought.

The smoke finally cleared, and Kirei could see clearly what lay within.

A golden glow covered his shoulders; indeed, his entire body seemed to be a solid gold colour. Only after Kirei's eyes adjusted to the brilliance did he see the contours of golden armour, and the Servant's head emerging from it.

Pale skin and red, red eyes. Atop that, blond hair.

Next to him, his own Servant tensed. She said nothing to him, but he could tell that she felt wary of the gold Servant.

"Master," Kirei said. "Who is this Servant?"

"This is the King of Heroes," Tokiomi said. "Gilgamesh of Uruk. The first of all heroic spirits, he surpasses them all in strength. With him on our side, none can stand against us."

Gilgamesh's stony face gazed upon them both with disdain.

"Which of you summoned me?" He addressed this question to both Kirei and Tokiomi, while directing his gaze at a point in the air in between them. Kirei's Servant, Ciel, seemed to have escaped his notice entirely.

"It was I, o Mighty King," Tokiomi said, with a bow. "Your humble slave shall be most honoured if you would bestow upon him your grace, and fight on his behalf in the coming battles."

"Tch."

Tokiomi, still bowed, raised his eyes to see Gilgamesh scoffing at him.

"Do you mean to imply," Gilgamesh said, "That I am no more than a common soldier, sent by you to fight as cannon fodder?"

"Certainly not," Tokiomi said. "I merely meant that the glory of the King at the front lines of battle is sure to reduce the hearts of the enemy to shattered pottery before you."

"Is that so, _Master_?"

"But of course, King."

"Hmph," Gilgamesh said. "I hope for your sake that it is. I shall not tolerate the empty drivel of mongrels in my presence, and if that is what you prove to be, you will have earned a thousand deaths at my hand."

Tokiomi stood upright from his bow.

"I am Tokiomi Tohsaka. I shall beg of you, King of Heroes, to dematerialize for now; the toll taken on my mana reserves by keeping your godly form substantiated is, regrettably, far too great for a worm as myself to bear."

"Very well," Gilgamesh said. He began to fade into a mass of golden particles in the air, sparkling and refracting the ambient light like prisms. A kaleidoscopic panorama was formed, and Kirei was entranced by its beauty.

The Servant's voice echoed, though his form was gone. "I trust you will prepare a more suitable stage for my next appearance, Tokiomi."

Tokiomi's stiff stance relaxed. "Well, Kirei, have you any thoughts on my Servant?"

Kirei thought for a moment.

"He seems incredibly powerful."

"Indeed," Tokiomi said. "His Noble Phantasm contains within it the power to reverse the direction of revolution of the Vortex at the center of this World. Beyond that, he has innumerable weapons of lesser power. Truly, there is none who can stand against the absolute power of the King."

Tokiomi exhaled a heavy sigh.

"I'll ask you to go home for the evening, Kirei. I'm quite fatigued from the summoning, and I shall have to excuse myself to rest."

He walked up the stairs leading from the basement workshop to the main Tohsaka mansion, opened and closed the door.

XXX

Now alone with him in the rectory of Kotomine Church, Ciel turned to her Master.

"Master, I do not trust that Servant. He has a strong aura... it makes me uncomfortable."

"What do you mean, Ciel?" Kirei asked her.

She cast her eyes downward. "Simply, there is a presence within him not entirely dissimilar to that I observed in the case of the Princess of the True Ancestors. You are familiar with her story?"

"Of the basics, certainly," Kirei said. "A being created by the True Ancestors, those who were the original progenitors of the vampiric race, in order to root out any corrupted individuals within their midst."

"Exactly," Ciel said. "She possessed a strong sense of power - it was almost on the level of a Divine creature. Being tied so closely to a powerful Origin as that of vampirism, she was like an abstract concept given form. Like a force of nature, impossible to defeat or subdue without a counter force of at least equal strength."

"Well, that _is_ significant. But," Kirei asked her, "Why is that a problem for us? We are allied to Tohsaka, and Gilgamesh is Tohsaka's Servant. Thus, we have nothing to fear, and indeed should give thanks to God for providing us with such a powerful ally."

"It is my experience that such power, when concentrated in a single individual, is too chaotic to be bound by such assurances as the Master-Servant pact, or personal loyalties. I witnessed the Princess attack the person she loved above any other with blind fury, her consciousness reduced to that of an animal seeking blood. In Gilgamesh's case, his power is leagues beyond hers; if I had to compare them, I would say that he is like the full force of the Holy See, whereas she was like a priestly student training in seminary. Moreover, he seems not to care about showing deference or even cordiality to his Master, who provides him with the magical power necessary for him to maintain his physical form. Thus, it is my assessment that this Servant will rebel in time, whether willing or otherwise."

Ciel lifted her eyes to meet Kirei's.

"I see, Kirei said. "However, I shall ask you not to speak of this to Tohsaka himself."

"May I ask why, Master?" Ciel's eyes penetrated his with their gaze. "If for no other reason, it would behoove us to help our ally to survive this conflict. And I'm certain you do not want a crazed, Master-less Servant running amok and destroying the balance of the Grail War. The Independent Action skill of the Archer Class would allow him two days on Earth after he has done away with Tohsaka."

"Tohsaka's doubtless considered this already," Kirei said, "And has either decided to reject the possibility for being too slim, or else has established precautions in the eventuality that it does occur. Or both."

Ciel stared at him for a moment, trying to break his solid facade of tranquillity with her gaze. Finding the attempt unsuccessful, she said, "I am here to fulfill your will, Master. But, do not blame me should matters go awry."

"Understood, Ciel. I accept fully the consequences of my decision. You may consider yourself absolved of all possible guilt."

She dematerialized without a word.

Kirei went to his own bedroom. It was decorated after the Spartan manner: Nothing but a bed with plain white sheets, a small wooden bedside table holding a bronze lamp with a single candle, and a leather-bound copy of the Holy Bible.

The bed was carefully made, its sheets tucked in tightly, with no room for error. The lamp was similarly pristine, polished weekly. He lit the candle, and sat to read before going to sleep.

He opened his Bible to the marked location.

In it, the prophet Daniel addresses the King of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar:

"Thou, O king, art a king of kings: for the God of heaven hath given thee a kingdom, power, strength, and glory. And wheresoever the children of men dwell, the beasts of the field and the fowls of the heaven hath he given into thine hand, and hath made thee ruler over them all. Thou art this head of gold."

How appropriate this passage to Gilgamesh, Kirei thought. Both Babylonian kings, and certainly there is no better adjective to apply to Gilgamesh than 'golden.' And just as Nebuchadnezzar's Babylon was succeded by inferior kingdoms, so too was Gilgamesh's rule.

He flipped to an earlier section, which had been marked for further analysis.

"The beginning of his kingdom was Babel and Erech..."

Erech, the Hebrew name of Uruk in Sumeria. The former seat of King Gilgamesh's power, now in ruins in modern Iraq. Situated on the banks of the river Euphrates, which arose from the Garden of Eden, it was truly given all manner of divine blessing.

According to the legends, Gilgamesh had rebelled against the gods of heaven, and had formed the first kingdom of men. Under his rule, all lived in peace and harmony. Perhaps not in luxury, but they lived existences independent of the gods' tyrannical rule.

Although, what difference did it make in their daily lives? The common man had no need to worry about angering the gods; the king was the intermediary, and it was he who ordered the people on the gods' behalf. Conversely, it was he who was punished if the gods' demands were unmet. Like an immediate superior, the people only ever interacted with the king.

So when the divine yoke was thrown off, only the king benefited.

Yet, Gilgamesh was known as the King of Heroes? Why? Merely because he had built a wall around the city?

No, that was insufficient reason to be called a Hero, much less first among them.

Kirei pondered this for a moment.

Gilgamesh's myth was only indirectly related to his rule over the men of Uruk. Primarily, it was concerned with his journey to find the fruit of immortality, which he undertook in order to conquer his own fear of death.

An entirely selfish journey, for entirely selfish motives.

What sort of Hero was this? Was not a Hero one who protected the weak with his strength?

And yet, he had earned a place within the Throne of Heroes. Clearly, the Grail was not as exacting as Kirei was when it came to such moral judgments.

Or was it the opposite? Perhaps the Grail _was_ entirely as strict with its moral judgments as Kirei was. Perhaps it chose Gilgamesh precisely for his purely selfish, yet entirely understandable motives.

Perhaps this is what allowed him to serve as the archetypal Hero. One whose legend embodies the struggle which undercuts every other in man. His mortality.

The never-ending struggle by mortal men to overcome that one final limit that can never be conquered. Though a man may conquer nations, other men, and even his own soul, he may never conquer Death itself.

Like the heel of Achilles, it is the one ineradicable flaw in an otherwise masterful organism.

This must be what the Grail treasures, Kirei concluded. Its 'morality' was not built on a traditional scale of good versus evil, but on a scale of archetypality versus mundanity. The better one can extrapolate from a single legend to all legends, and the lives of all men who came after, the higher its position in the Throne of Heroes.

Conversely, those Heroic Spirits whose legends were only relevant to their specific circumstances, and thus did not inspire the hearts of men to share their tales, ranked at the very bottom.

Perhaps their existence was necessary, to occasionally flush out the desire of men for superficial relevancy; but due to the lack of archetypal applicability, they were condemned to be bottom-feeders in the pool of Heroes.

This new form of morality intrigued Kirei. He desired to know how Gilgamesh perceived the world, how he judged his fellow men. By which system _did_ men order their lives, at the very beginning of history? Myths and legends could only tell so much. He could not pass up the opportunity to inquire of the genuine article, an eyewitness to the infancy of humanity.

Yes, though his Master would perhaps not approve, Kirei knew he had to personally approach Gilgamesh and ask him.

And if Gilgamesh did end up rebelling against his new Master, Kirei wanted to be spared his wrath.

_You're right, Ciel._

_Nothing is more important than a good ally._

* * *

Hiya folks.

Hope you enjoyed this one; I feel like I approached it in a way not entirely dissimilar to the way I approached Chapter 6. Though I prefer Chapter 6 to this one... Hm.

I should probably write that kind of thing more. I like it.

I've been listening to a lot of Queen lately; here's a lyric from March of the Black Queen that I like applying to people like Kirei:

"Why do I follow you, and where do you go?"

Like he's addressing some part of him that leads him to evil. Tentatively. Seductively. But he deceives himself, by pretending ignorance of the final destination of his path.

Additionally, I'm quite happy to finally introduce Gil to this story. Historically, he's been my favourite Fate character. Even though I've recently come to the conclusion that he is literally worse than Shinji Matou, if you consider his actions as a King, and so forth. But many of us love him anyway. I know that for me, he represents the strong allure of evil. And though I deny it entry to my soul, I still have to respect its power. Or something.

He's cool.

Anyway, see y'all next time!


	10. The Pit of Love

I see her walking down the hall. I watch her kimono sway; it invites me, beckoning me to join her within it. It is blue, but beneath is her supple white skin, and beneath that is her dark red blood.

Today isn't the first time I've watched her, only the most recent. I've hungered after her for a long time, though she doesn't know I'm here. But that's fine. I love her and will be with her. There is no room for her to disagree with that.

We are destined for each other.

Her noble bearing makes my saliva run. If my mouth weren't closed tight, it would overflow and stain the floors.

Watching her, put one foot in front of the other. The delicacy of her toes, I want to run my tongue on them and bite them off.

I follow her. I match her pace, keeping this distance. This distance is perfect, just far enough that she doesn't notice me, but close enough for me to smell every bit of sweat emanating from her body. Like the liquid form of her exertions, of her actions in this world, it travels through the air to my nose.

I drink it in.

It tastes so good, I let it fill my lungs. I feel the air carrying her scent in my throat, and it energizes me.

I walk faster.

Soon, Ryougi, you will be mine.

She stops.

Now is the time.

I grab her shoulder.

"Hey, Ryougi-san," I say.

She turns around, with a look of confusion.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

No.

It's not her.

Then... was it a mistake?

How dare she deceive me?

No, I wasn't wrong. It is Shiki. It has to be.

Why is she pretending not to know me?

No matter.

I run, my footsteps pounding on the floor.

I lunge at her, my teeth enter her neck.

They dig deep, crushing skin and bone.

She screams for a second, before she can make no sound through her throat but a light whistling.

I chew the mass of her neck, and swallow the powdered bone and soup of blood and muscle.

It tastes so good.

Now, I have to run. I can't let myself be caught here.

I take my schoolbag, and put her freshly decapitated head inside.

I leave her body here; no one will think it was me.

My alibi is ironclad.

I jump through the open window, and head to my hideout.

XXX

Kariya opened his eyes, his forehead covered with a film of sweat.

_So, this is the Servant I have summoned? Even in my dreams, he torments me..._

"Good morning, Kariya." The voice comes from beyond where he can see in this dark.

_It must still be night._

"What is it, Zouken?" Kariya asks the voice.

"I couldn't bring myself to wake you, you seemed to be having such a pleasant rest," Zouken said, standing in the corner of the bedroom.

"Quiet, old man. What do you want?"

Zouken chuckled. "Oh? You think I've come here for my own selfish reasons? Can't a man visit his son to ensure his wellbeing?"

"A man, yes. Not you."

"You wound me, Kariya," Zouken said. He smiled. "It's just that, you seem to be having some difficulty maintaining your Servant. Your magical energy output is quite low naturally, so I was going to suggest some way you might ease your burden."

Kariya winced, as he remembered the Crest Worm implantation ritual. "You put those accursed worms in me already; thanks to them, I should be able to produce enough magical energy to last the War."

"Indeed, Kariya," Zouken replied. "However, those worms take a toll on your body. They wear you down, reducing you to bubbling skin and flesh, your bones long since dissolved. Which, I will admit, is a slow and painful process that I greatly enjoy."

Kariya was silent.

"So," Zouken continued, "I have an idea. A measure you can take, to ensure your body remains intact enough to complete your task of winning this Holy Grail War." He cocked his head to the side. "Can I take it you are interested?"

Kariya closed his eyes, and sank back into bed. He didn't want to hear any of this. His father's voice only added to his pain, by reminding him of all he had suffered till now. Bringing back those memories, and compounding them with the current pain, was something he hated.

So he resolved not to listen. To ignore him.

"You can close your eyes, but do you enjoy the pain even more than I do? Enough to want to drag yourself to death, without being able to rescue your precious Sakura?"

Eyes still closed, Kariya spoke. "Tell me what you came to say, then get out."

"Fine, fine," Zouken said. "I'll make this quick, then. Order your Servant to harvest some souls; if you do that, you'll share your burden with others, and you might survive this long enough to see the former Tohsaka again."

"I... I can't," Kariya said. "There's no way I would do something that evil. I'm not you, I won't bring innocents into this war."

"Isn't Sakura's life more important to you than theirs? Nameless masses, running about with no real meaning or purpose to them."

"I thought you might have something of actual use for me," Kariya said. "But it's far too inhumane for me to ever consider it. Now get out."

He rolled onto his side in the bed, facing away from Zouken's voice.

"Your wish is my command, Master." Zouken laughed. Kariya heard the sound of a door opening, closing, and footsteps.

He was gone.

_But... he's right, isn't he?_

Kariya began to cry, the physical pain driving him to do so.

His neck felt like it was burning him from the inside out.

_If I can't make it through... no, I can't die yet. I have to take off whatever burdens I can, otherwise I really won't last. But I don't want to increase the number of victims of this savage ritual. That would be an insult to everything I'm fighting for, to save Sakura. There must be another way._

He sat up, and opened his eyes.

The light, meager though it was, penetrated his vision. It seemed that Zouken had switched on the light as he left the room.

_Bastard._

_Well, now that I think about it, there may indeed be another way. Worth a shot._

Kariya journeyed to the forest on the outskirts of Fuyuki City. Not the Einzbern forest, for he would never risk angering them, not this early in the war.

"I summon thee! Appear, Berserker!"

His stomach convulsed, as it sent bile far up his throat. He tasted it. It tasted of blood.

He doubled over, as his Servant appeared before him.

Lio looked at Kariya. He cocked his head, apparently waiting for orders. The insanity of the Berserker class rendered him incapable of normal speech; their only method of communication was the Servant dreams Kariya had of Lio's previous life. He wished their link were strictly a matter of business, of co-operation for victory in the Holy Grail War. He had no desire to associate with such a vulgar person, driven by their basest instincts to behave as an animal.

To hurt others, without any regard for their desires or happiness.

He bit his lip, to drown out the pain that was assailing his skull.

"Berserker... Go into the forest. Find whatever you can, anything that is alive. Take it, kill it, and absorb its energy."

Lio snarled. He got on all fours, faced the forest, and roared. Then, he ran, his speed on his arms and legs easily rivalling any human runner. Probably faster than a jaguar, approaching bullet train speeds.

As he penetrated the forest, the sheer speed of his entry created a wind behind him, pulling leaves off trees and shaking them to the roots.

_Good... hopefully this will be enough. Then..._

He couldn't think any more. The feeling in his arms was gone, soon his legs would give way too. He was in a park, late at night when there were no other humans around.

He laid down on a nearby bench, and let himself fall asleep. He silently commanded Berserker to return to him when he was done, having consumed his fill.

Now, sleep took him away from his earthly torment.

XXX

As I sip this drink, I think how much more delicious it would be to sip her blood. Open a hole in her vein, and suck it out, like milk from a nipple.

I sit in this cafe, watching her, and him.

He talks to her, and laughs at his own jokes and stupidity.

She looks at him, not allowing herself to laugh, but I can tell she finds him amusing.

I tighten the grip of my jaw on the straw of my drink.

It breaks.

Coffee.

What do I need it for? The Bloodchip is far more powerful, far more energizing, far more clarifying, far more...

Liberating.

It brings me out of these weak shackles that I can't even break out of on my own, with my normal self.

It leads me to fully become who I must, become the man I know I am.

I want to break out of this shell, like a membrane covering me.

I am an egg, and within me lives a powerful phoenix that has to fly and die and burn and kill.

I feel the multiplicity within. I feel the constant roiling vortex within me. Every nature, every sort of archetype is contained within my soul, and I need to express it or I WILL GO CRAZY.

I am so frustrated, like a pipe that is blocked. The pressure builds, and if I don't let it go, open the valve, I will explode.

Quickly.

I can see it within her. I can see the same spinning, crazy whirling in her soul.

In her it all spirals down to nothingness, and from there it loops in on itself and curls, and becomes everything.

And it just goes up and down and up and down and in and out.

And I _love_ it.

I know that she has within her exactly the thing that I need, the thing that can give me perfect expression and quiet this etrnal war inside me between my parts.

So quickly. I need to do it now.

I will crush his head, and I will drink the blood from his neck hole. It will shoot up, filling the sky with red rain, and I will stand under it and let it fall into my mouth.

Then, once I have consumed him and absorbed him, I will bring his essence to bear in my frontal aspect. And Ryougi will see me, and she will allow me in.

Then, I will go inside her and she and I will become one.

Then I will be free.

I will finally be free of this...

Pain.

XXX

Kariya woke up, the sounds of slobbering and dripping on him.

Was it raining?

No, it was his Servant.

Lio stood above his reclining form, a squirrel - to be precise, half of a squirrel - in his mouth. A smile, a wide grin on his face. He jumped up and down, like a dog expecting a pat on the head from its master.

Kariya put a hand over his face, to shield himself from the blood of the squirrel. It sickened him, watching his Servant behave this way. Still, anything was better than suffering through the point of view that he did in his dreams. He wished he would never sleep, so that he could perhaps only limit his pain.

But he knew that if he didn't sleep, soon enough the link between him and Lio would invade his conscious mind and then he would no longer be able to distinguish reality from dream. And then, all would be truly lost. He would become as insane as his Servant, and at that point he would only want to be killed.

_Please, don't let it ever get that bad._

Then, he noticed something.

_My mana output to Berserker hasn't changed. Or, if it did, it's far too little to make a noticeable difference._

_I'm going to die, like this._

_Well, if that's how it will be, so it will be. Que sera sera, and all that._

He stood up, and began walking back towards the Matou Manor. His legs were still weak, and he limped on his left side. Soon, the extra weight he was putting there would just lead that leg too to collapse, and then he would be stuck in the park for some child to find in the morning. Half-dead of frostbite and mana loss, he would be a frightening sight.

He didn't want any child to suffer like that.

No one should suffer like that... as he had.

As he walked, his Servant followed him. He didn't follow behind, though; he ran in circles around Kariya, as if taunting him with his athletic ability. The squirrel corpse was long devoured, and now Lio just stole more and more of Kariya's strength to exercise his low nature.

_Animal._

Kariya ignored him, and kept walking.

As they neared the public road, Lio suddenly started moving very closely to Kariya. Matching him step for step. Kariya could feel his hot, moist breath on his neck.

"Get away," he said. "Why don't you dematerialize when I don't need you? It's a waste of my mana."

Berserker ignored his words, and caressed Kariya's shoulder. He panted as he did so.

Kariya stiffened, and stopped.

"If you move to harm me, I will stop you with a Command Spell," he said, without turning around.

Lio jumped back. Kariya turned, and saw him crouched in a corner, gnawing on his own forearm.

_What a waste. Doesn't he realize that by consuming himself, he can't possibly achieve a net gain in magical energy? Or... are his instincts so insatiable that he must try to sate them in this false manner, by consuming himself? How pitiful._

Kariya scoffed.

_Be that as it may, there is indeed a great difficulty here. If I cannot sacrifice innocents to Lio, and animals are insufficient... Only one path remains. In that sense, there really is no difficulty. I know what I must do. For now, anyway, until a suitable replacement should be found._

Kariya pulled up his right sleeve. The arm underneath was pale, almost translucent. He had spent the better part of the previous year in a deep dark cellar, so his skin had adopted this unhealthy hue of a shut-in.

Aside from the various other maladies he earned in that time.

He flexed his right fist. Opening, and closing it, he watched the tendons expand and contract. His muscles too had shrunk, to the point that they were now barely noticeable. His arm was like a stick with some flaccid flesh spread over it.

But the veins and arteries stood within that landscape. Despite the weakness of his arm, blood still flowed through it. And as he pumped his fist, the vessels swelled and gained prominence.

After a few minutes, he judged it sufficient, and let his fist loosen. His arm hung slack at his side.

"Berserker!" he called to the Servant, still chewing on the flesh of his own body.

Lio galloped toward him, like an ape using its hands to propel itself forward on the ground.

Upon reaching Kariya, he noticed the exposed arm. Like he was drawn by a smell of slaughter, he inched towards it.

Slowly, slowly.

"Do what you must," Kariya said. "It's better than the alternative."

Lio licked the flesh of Kariya's forearm, running his tongue from the wrist to the elbow.

Kariya winced, but kept his eyes open. He needed to watch, just in case his Servant forgot himself and took more than he should. Certainly, he couldn't risk the arm being severed if too much was taken.

His Command Seals were on that hand.

Lio had found a vein. He put his mouth to it, and sucked on the flesh.

As the negative pressure drew the flesh into his mouth, Kariya felt it being torn. Maintaining the suction, Lio's sharp canines bit off a chunk right atop the vein.

Kariya felt the blood flow out, but saw nothing.

Lio drank it all.

It was a sickening sensation, his life leaving him as a blood sacrifice at the altar of victory.

But would this god that he offered it to, the corrupted, twisted, evil god that governed this charade of a contest, this Holy Grail War that was anything but... would he repay Kariya in kind? Would he compensate him for his losses, appreciate the worship?

Or would he laugh at him, spit on him, and stab him with the gnarled wooden staff of pain?

The latter seemed far more likely.

And yet, Kariya continued. He gave of himself to the Servant, fully aware of his own limitations. He endured the pain.

For the sake of that one, small light at the heart of the darkness.

So there was nothing too hard, no sacrifice too great. His life was entirely without meaning anyway. At least now, he had a chance, however slim, of achieving that which he had always sought.

So he felt the dull hum, the ache of his magical energy being transferred to his Servant. And he relished it, because he knew that with every drop of blood, he moved one step closer to victory.

Eventually, he felt he might die if he gave any more. He told Berserker to stop, and he did.

As Kariya tore off the sleeve had rolled up, and bandaged the wound on his arm, Lio opened his mouth in a wide grin.

His tongue flicked at the corners of his face, lapping up droplets of Kariya's vital fluids. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he laughed.

It was the most human thing Kariya had seen him do so far, and it made him want to vomit. There was nothing human about his Servant, and there never had been. Even before the shackles of madness inherent to the Berserker Class were placed on him, Lio Shirazumi was the worst kind of being that called itself 'human.' The sort that should have been killed immediately, euthanized by any better elements of society that possibly could do so.

And so this viscerally human act, laughter, was so unlike his Servant's animalistic nature, that Kariya felt great fear.

Lio tilted his head back, stared at the moon, and laughed hysterically.

His shoulders shook with the force of his laughter, which to Kariya seemed to shake the earth and heavens. Nothing seemed stable anymore, like reality was being ripped apart.

He tried to steady his mind.

_You're overreacting. Calm down,_ he told himself.

"Berserker," he said. "You've had your fill. Now, begone."

Lio made no sign of having heard his Master's order, except to slowly fade away into a black cloud, still cackling.

Even after his form was completely dissolved into smoke, and was blown away by the whistling night breeze, the sound remained.

It haunted Kariya as he walked home, his grip on the world slipping all the way.

Kariya stood at the bottom of the staircase leading to the Crest Worm pit in the basement of the Matou Manor. He watched the writhing mass gurgle below him.

In that sea of worms Sakura had floated, risen, and sunk for so long. And now, she was somewhere else. She was still dead, still lost to the world and to Kariya, but she was alive. And she had been saved, at least for now.

Kariya took pride in that, thoguh he hated himself for letting it happen in the first place.

Not like he could have done anything to stop it, but...

Maybe if he hadn't turned his back on Magecraft, his Father would never have thought to adopt a girl from another family? Maybe.

Maybe... Maybe that was the wrong choice after all.

He had been selfish.

He had prioritized his own happiness, without giving a thought to the possible consequences that could bring on another. Someone innocent. Someone completely unselfish, who didn't deserve to suffer like this.

And now, in order to ensure he does not make the same mistake again, he was going to willingly subject himself to the torment.

He sat on the step leading into the pit, and let his right arm hang over the side.

Immediately, the worms smelled it and jumped onto him. Like leeches, they cut circles in his flesh and burrowed in as they sucked.

The pain was unbearable. But he bore it.

He felt their unholy power filling him, like his soul was being invaded by a powerful demon.

He lay on his back, intent only on enduring it, while trying to shut the outside world from his consciousness.

His arm began to take shape again, to be filled with blood pumping. But the blood didn't feel like his own. It felt like some foreign body that had been inserted into him, that had been used to build a doll that resembled him in only the barest way, but which was dead inside. Devoid of the spark of soul that makes a thing human.

_Is that what I am?_

The pain, despite coming with renewed, borrowed strength was sending him into the sweet depths of dark unconsciousness.

_Is that all I am? A doll? Is that what I have been fighting for?_

_The right to make myself a machine, as I pursue the salvation of something that only doubtfully still exists._

_Sakura has been ravaged by the worms far too long. I look in those eyes and I see only a dull reflection of a cloudy mirror. There is no life in her._

_Even if I save her now, I can never undo what she went through here. I can never take those memories away from her. I can never take those wounds away from her body and soul._

_So why am I still here?_

_This pain kills me over and over again._

_If I could only see a single, small smile... I could have the strength to continue this forever. I wouldn't need the worms to give me strength with pain to feed my Servant. I'd push myself, somehow, and I'd make it work. I know I would._

_But even that! Even the smallest sign I don't get. Only Zouken's empty promises exist to comfort me._

_As I wake I am surrounded by the proof of my own incompetence, and as I sleep I am related to the worst dregs of humanity. There is no escape from the feelings of death and inferiority. I want to end it all already, but I know that if I did that would only be a confirmation of my cowardice._

_I just have to pretend. I have to pretend there is a smile. I have to light the light of hope in my heart on my own, and pretend that it's real._

_I have to establish some connection to reality and happiness - or is that fantasy? No matter. I don't care what is real or fake anymore. Nothing matters anymore._

_Even if it's a lie, I have to pretend there is hope. So that maybe, one day, I can finally break out of this endless torture and wake in the light. I know there's no chance of it happening, but I will do it anyway._

_But if that light is going to be worth anything, I can't get it by stepping on another. The pain of knowing that someone else suffered to grant me my dream would sully it, defile it such that I could never attach myself to it. I would end up like Zouken, an evil vampire, a creature of shadows. Whether or not I actually am confined to the darkness in reality, I would always be a prisoner of my own heart. The voices inside would never let me rest, always calling me to task for my sins, making me wish I were dead._

_And if that happened, would I be any better off than I am now?_

_So that is the one thing I cannot allow._

His arm felt now like it was full to bursting. He opened his eyes and looked at it.

The worms crawled through it, inside. He felt as if there were no bones in his arm, only ossified worms. They moved as his muscles, the flowed as his blood, they felt as his nerves.

He stood up, shakily.

He looked down into the worm pit.

_I am no longer a man, but a worm._

_But I shall sacrifice myself for the good of men. I do not hate them, but love them. I only hate myself. I will only turn my hatred inward, and let it consume my own body. For what is the harm in killing something that is already dead? None. We might only gain thereby, reincorporating the refuse back into the endless cycle of death and rebirth._

_I will purge myself of all good, and in the pain that I feel I shall sacrifice myself on the altar of salvation. I shall become nothing but a shell, an empty vessel, a hole. And as a hole, I shall be filled with the only thing that matters, and I shall pour it upon those whom I choose._

_I shall be filled with the only thing deeper than despair, the only thing wider than pain and sharper than regret._

_I shall be filled with love. And no matter who or what exists in that body of the person called 'Sakura,' I shall give her my love._

_And then there will be nothing left, and I will be free._

He turned around, and began walking up the stairs.

_So come, Sakura. Let me love you._

* * *

Hey y'all!

I really quite like writing Kariya. Whenever, as I did when I finished this chapter, I get a feeling like I want to vomit when writing him, I feel satisfied that I did all right.

What a sick soul...

Anyway, there's a fair bit of commonality between certain stories written by Urobuchi Gen, such as Fate/Zero and Madoka. I won't spoil Madoka here but I was decently influenced by some of it here.

I've been rewatching Canaan. Good Nasu stuff. Got a lot of Fate and Kara no Kyoukai in it.

I hope you liked it, and I'd like to do some more chapters just to get properly acquainted with all the Master/Servant pairs... not sure which I'll do next, but we shall see.

See ya next time!


	11. The Seed of Rebellion

Ciel couldn't let things stand the way they were. It's not that she didn't trust her Master _per se_, more that she just wanted to make sure things would be all right.

She wasn't so naive as to think that he didn't know what he was getting into, consorting with that... Servant of gold. She did, however, feel that experience had its place in the grand scheme of things, and that she would simply be a better judge of Archer than Kirei would be. Her Master had cruelty in him, yes, but he really knew nothing about the world outside of himself.

He was like a child, lost on his way, with only an innocent desire for destruction.

She could hardly blame him, though. She knew what it was like to be cursed with a compulsion to hurt others; it had caused her to lose everything that she loved. Everyone.

All the suffering she underwent later at the hands of the Holy Church was nothing compared to the endless self-flagellation she endured.

Experiments. Hot irons raked across her body, creating furrows of blood on her back that sealed up almost as quickly as they were made. It was all the Executors could do to slow the healing enough to tattoo words of blessing on her skin, in the hopes of sealing the vampiric soul within her.

Because Roa's soul was intermingled with her own, every attempt to seal him away produced immense pain in every cell of her body, as if her genetic code were being torn apart and then only hastily retied. Such damage to her body necessarily produced concomitant effects in her psyche, and so her mental sufferings were exacerbated to an exquisite level.

After a while, her consciousness floating in and out of the pain began to embrace it. The sensation was so all-encompassing, that she began to see it as beautiful. She began to understand Roa, understand why he so desired to inflict pain on others. For it was so, so much easier to bring another to the depths of pain than the heights of pleasure, and is it not so that at the lowest depths one could wrap around the human experience vertically, and coexist at the zenith and the nadir? Is it not so that watching another suffer could only bring the highest joy to Roa, and did not Ciel want to experience the same? Didn't she...

Didn't she love it? Didn't she love the pain? Didn't she want Roa always inside her, moving her with his evil to commit the most heinous of acts, tarnishing her soul eternally?

It wasn't as if Roa had no love. He loved, he loved, he loved. He loved the Princess of the True Ancestors, and always desired to give her the only sublime heaven that he knew; the heights of suffering. Why did she not see that? Why did she run away? Ciel wouldn't... Ciel never could deny her love of the foreign invader of her soul.

And yet, she did. She hated what she had done, even if she wasn't the one who did it. Her hands were red with blood, no matter by whose agency. She was evil, corrupt, had to be killed.

She welcomed the knives of the Church, she welcomed their poking and probing into her innermost sancta. After all, they promised salvation, didn't they? She knew she loved the pain, loved the viscera of her parents cracking in her hands... but that wasn't her. That wasn't her at all. That was Roa, an existence that could not exist, a being contrary to God. It was his influence poisoning her, and she wanted him out. She would endure anything to make that happen.

XXX

She willingly laid herself bare, stripping naked so the Church Agents could inspect her.

Standing in the dark room, she could see none of them, but she knew they could all see her. Every part of her body, every inch of skin and flesh, perfectly athletic due to her accursed vampirism.

Her blue hair flowed to her shoulders, as she spoke into the vacuum.

"You know why I am here, and you know that I have agreed to this. Please do not have any compunctions about what I can handle; I am strong and can survive anything but the festering poison within my heart. If you can remove that, I will endure the tortures of Lucifer himself."

She spread her arms wide. Her heart beat dirhythmically, two strong beats, followed by two weak ones. Two rhythms that merged into one, even as they maintained separate identities.

The beats resounded in her ears, as she was unsure that anyone had heard her. She knew they were there, but did they care?

She prostrated herself on the ground, unsure where to face.

A voice intoned from the distance, as if speaking to her soul from the cavern at the end of time.

"An thou wilt, We shall purify thee."

The words were like smooth honey in her ears, soothing her worries and wounds.

"I will," she said. "Purify me."

As soon as the words left her lips, she felt a great wind rushing against her. It focused against her back, and entered her. It traveled through her spine, like a white-hot fire that consumes all. It ran to her neck, and she felt it pushing inside of her, trying to break the barrier between spinal cord and brain.

But it couldn't. It kept trying, and kept pounding against the wall, but it couldn't penetrate it.

Every single knock was agony. Every time it moved within her, she felt the opposite of what she had felt when Roa would surface within her. When Roa surfaced, she felt _power_. She felt like she could do anything, and there was no one above her, not even Death, or God.

But now... This white snake in her spine was robbing her of everything. She could only feel it pressing down on her, willing her to submit to its heat. It was like a Sun, the great enemy of vampires. She only wanted to fall and worship it, she only wanted to let that barrier down and let it through to her most intimate psychic chambers.

"Arghghgh!" she screamed, as her body convulsed. Her body wanted to let the barrier down, it was the only thing that could save it.

"The Agent of the Lord is within thee, Elesia. Accept him and become pure."

She wanted to scream that she couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to. But she had no control of her organs of speech, and could only continue writhing.

"Wilt thou not? Liedst thou, wert thou dishonest in thy speech? So be it."

I didn't! I... I can't, I don't know why, I just can't, please don't hurt me any more, I was wrong, I couldn't take it, I don't want to be pure, I will die like this, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die!

The pain intensified and she was in oblivion.

She could no longer feel pain, no longer feel her body at all.

_I... I just want to live. Please let me live._

The light of her soul was dark.

The probing white snake wrapped itself around her brain, having broken the barrier by force.

When she lost the barrier, she lost all sensation.

Now in the hole in her soul, when Roa was pushed out leaving only the smallest trace, she felt the light. It filled her and conquered her, and she willingly submit herself to it.

It filled her with pain, but she could no longer remember the pleasure she had felt before; this was all she knew, and so she loved it. She craved it, more and more.

The Agents of the Holy Church looked down at her from their shadowed pedestals, seated in a semicircle before her. They were well pleased with her success in surviving LUCIFER, their secret project for Dead Apostle Purification.

"Elesia?" they said.

Ciel returned to her body, and felt the stabbing pains of the white snake inside herself, trying to break out of her body. It was as if her body was made out of swords, of Black Keys penetrating her from the inside out.

But the pain was all she knew, so she loved it. It invigorated her, and gave her strength to stand.

She slowly erected herself, every move causing the Black Keys she felt inside to tear at her joints. They weren't physical, though; they couldn't be, not if she could still move. They must be psychic pains, purifying her soul, bringing her back to herself.

"I am here, Fathers," she said. "I am yours to do with as you wish."

The Agents deliberated among themselves in silence. Finally, they arrived at a consensus, and reactivated the communication channels from their chamber to hers.

"We require nothing of thee as yet, save for additional service as a Vicar of Christ."

"What does this entail?" asked Ciel.

"Thou'rt surely familiar of the Passion of the Lord?"

"Of course."

Their collective voice burned its words into her cranium.

"Thou shalt surely know the Lord, and We shall delight in thee."

XXX

Was it worth it? She didn't think it was, now, though at the time she felt she had no other choice. And now she had to prevent her Master from making a similar mistake, from entrusting his wellbeing to one who would betray him at the soonest opportunity, in the vain hope of some redemption gained thereby.

She stalked the outside of the Tohsaka mansion. It was dark night, and the woods were quiet. In the center of the courtyard was a pedestal on which stood a large red jewel, which she knew was the focus of Tohsaka's power.

Ciel had known a Magus or two in life, and could not possibly imagine that Tohsaka had nothing else up his sleeve, but it was strange to her that he would leave something like that exposed. Terribly out of character for one so risk-averse as he.

Which meant that it was _not_ so risky in Tohsaka's eyes. Ergo, his Servant must be watching.

Well, she had come tonight to bring peace, not the sword.

Standing on a treetop high above the courtyard, she called out.

"Archer, show yourself! Your Master is foolish in thinking to provoke enemy Servants to attack his apparently undefended Focus Jewel."

A golden dust materialized on the roof of the mansion across the courtyard.

"Dare you insult my Master, mongrel?" Gilgamesh's voice resounded even before he took form.

"Do you disagree with my assessment?" Ciel asked.

"Ugh. Stupid mongrels." Gilgamesh was now fully present, his gleaming golden armor only minimally leading Ciel's eyes away from the look of royal disdain on his face, as if it were the greatest chore for him to interact with her. "It matters not whether you are correct; merely the fact that you have spoken against one to whom I am tied is grounds for immediate death. Tokiomi is my anchor to this mortal coil, after all; as well as yours, if you think about it. Though you never _would_, would you."

"Gilgamesh," Ciel said, "You and I both know that you will not kill me here. So, dispense with the empty threats and posturing. I come here to tell you, in strictest confidence, something that you will find interesting. I only ask for your co-operation, or at least your word, in return."

"I have quelled my anger for the moment. You may speak, though it irks me to listen to your peasant voice."

"My Master," Ciel began, "is under the impression that your loyalty to Tohsaka is tenuous, at best, and-"

"Tokiomi?" Gilgamesh said. "I make no pretense of loyalty to any grovelling dog, no matter how high on the ash heap he may sit. It would be an affront to the office which I inhabit."

"Then, Tohsaka is...?"

"Aware of this? Yes, dog though he may be, he is not stupid. He knows his place and will not contravene it. Your Master, however... he is different. I would worry for his sanity if not for my interest in seeing him crumble."

"I wonder," Ciel chose her words carefully, "if my Master's naivete may not become a stumbling block for us. He knows nothing of what he wants, but he earnestly desires to find out. If, as you say, he crumbles, our own hopes of obtaining the Grail may come to nothing. Surely even you cannot abide by that?"

"I care not," Gilgamesh said. "I own the Grail already; all the treasures of this world reside in my storehouse. Thus, it will be returned to its rightful place by the hands of Fate, sooner or later. There is no reason not to enjoy myself in the meantime, and your Master should provide ample entertainment." He paused for a moment. "...don't tell me. Does this bother you, dear Assassin?"

"Well, yes, of course it does. If my Master is led astray and I lose the Grail thereby, then-"

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, STUPID mongrel. Do you not understand anything I have been saying? The Grail is mine and no other hands may soil it with their dirt. You and your Master are nothing but accessories in this War, mere assistants to my exalted self. If you do not learn your place soon enough, I will personally ensure your quick removal to the Throne of Heroes, Tokiomi's wishes be damned. Now go. I cannot stand you anymore, my eyes water at your ugliness."

Ciel quickly ran back into the forest, and saw Gilgamesh's presence begin to dissipate out of the corner of her eye. As she ran back to the Church, thoughts assailed her head.

_I was right about him. He doesn't even care that I know what he thinks of us! His mind is truly diseased, the inverse of Kotomine's. Perhaps they would go well together, but if they did, they would do an excellent job of creating chaos._

_What am I to do? I have been saddled with a most unsavory Master, and I don't know how I can bring him back to the light. I know that's where he wants to be... But he can't find his way. He scrabbles at weak handholds that always let him down in the end. I want to give him hope, I want him to see meaning in his life. I want to help him, and I want to walk with him in the light._

_Is that not what he would want? The one I loved... he is gone now, but is that not what he would want of me? He only ever wanted to help those straying in the dark. It is why I loved him, why I wanted to protect him from the Princess of the True Ancestors. He was weak, but he loved, and he would have laid his life down for me._

_His heart was pure, and he was able to fight and win against his inner shadows. He inspired me with his innocence, and he would want me to help my Master in this way._

_Please, God. Help me do what I couldn't, what couldn't be done for me._

_Help me save him before he destroys himself._

XXX

Kirei Kotomine sat in the rectory, his Bible closed on the nightstand next to him. Though he had spent his time that night doing what he always did, its pages again defied his search for wisdom in them.

He wanted to turn its pages, swallow its words, learn everything contained within them. He wanted to achieve a sense of closeness to his Creator through the Word, but the Word would not enter his soul.

It frustrated him to no end... but perhaps something else was out there? Something else that could fill the void in his heart.

The hole was empty, and without the Light it must be filled with Darkness. For did not the God who created light, who was the Light and the Life unto all men, also create Darkness and Death? There is a path for those who walk in the Light, but if God loves all then he must also have created a Way for the Sons of Darkness.

This was He who sat at the right hand of the Right Hand, the inversion of the Christ. The Creator, the Father, in His infinite wisdom prepared a way for those who love Him from the mud. The mud is also granted a place within the Kingdom, flowing below it and raining down from the top.

The Kingdom must be warmed, and it must be warmed by the fires of curse flowing underneath it, like magma. Kirei felt this is where he needed to be, this was his role assigned to him. God loved him and God knew him, and God chose him as His servant to provide this blessing unto men. God cannot soil himself with the dirt of sin, but still needed someone to adopt the burden.

God's Son suffered, but that is passive destruction. Taking an active role in creation of evil would violate the compact God had entered into with his Children, the Sons of Light. Thus God has relegated himself to a separate role, as the Light-bringer; but the true Bringer of Light is Lucifer, the fallen Angel.

Lucifer, he who enlightens the eyes of the blind and stops up the mouths of the wise. It is he who I worship, it is he whose lot has been assigned me. God has not turned away from me, he has only selected me for the role of the antagonist. The one who will transvaluate human society, the one who will lead the men of this era to truth in falsehood, to the light in the darkness, to the life in death.

This must be the Way. For if it is not, why would God have made me the way He did? It is only that He must want a greater truth from me, that He wants me to shoulder the sins of man as an active destroyer, as the God who slays the multitudes and levels mountains and raises valleys. He who shoulders the sins of man and provides them with salvation.

But there are so many sins, and so little time.

How, Lord? How can I serve thee? What must I do?

A knock at the door.

Oh, how polite of Assassin. Truly, a good Servant, almost saintly - with the littlest bit of the germ of evil within her heart - in life. She _knocks_.

"Please come in, Ciel."

The door opened slowly, and the black-clad Servant entered. Kirei found her amusing, a strange reflection of his own youth. But she seemed to have gone past her evil, and found some light. Clearly, not the same as he. Not one who cannot enter the light, not one who must make another path branching from the Way of Christ.

She was, in the final analysis, still one of the blessed ones.

Kirei resented that, but soon quieted his heart. He has a mission, does he not? He need only await its revelation to him.

"Master, I must warn you away from that golden Servant, Gilgamesh."

How strange. He wasn't even thinking of Archer; that was Tokiomi's problem for the moment. He still needed time to do what must be done, time to prepare his questions before he could ask Gilgamesh what he wanted to know of the ancient days.

"Ciel," Kirei said. "Have a seat."

Ciel pulled out the chair from the desk next to Kirei's bed, and sat on it facing him.

"You see," Kirei began, "There is an essential difference between you and me, dear Servant. Yes, we are both Servants of God, but we have each taken our own paths to that same end, correct?"

"Of course, but that is exactly why-!"

"Ah." Kirei raised his hand, signalling her to let him continue. "That is indeed exactly why you must trust me. I am your Master, and the Holy Grail War is what I have been trained for. I know myself, and I know Tohsaka - and I even know Gilgamesh. I know you, too. I know you fancy yourself a saviour of men, or rather, that is the role you always wanted to have. Perhaps it was necessary to look at yourself that way, in order to feel like you could atone for the evil that had been wrought through your hands."

Ciel's eyes hardened, her nostrils flared, but she kept silent.

"I know you hate when I say such things, but I feel it necessary to point this out. While I appreciate your intentions in warning me away from, as you see it, clear and present danger, I must assure you that I know what I am doing. It would behoove you to instead focus your considerable energies on your task of aiding Tohsaka in his victory."

Ciel couldn't resist speaking.

"Yeah, I bet that's what you want from me," she spat out of the corner of her mouth. "You expect me to sit here and wait for orders that'll never come, while you plan betrayal? I know what you're thinking. No matter how you feel about it, I'm not stupid. I know you plan to do Tohsaka in. I don't know why - or maybe I do, and that's what scares me. You may have read up on my life but you haven't _lived_ it, and until you have you won't know what it's like to have done something that can never be undone."

"Cannot be undone? Surely, you don't mean to deny the fact of the Resurrection? My Master's brief departure from this mortal coil would be a much-needed vacation for him."

"Don't. Don't joke with me about this. It's all I can do to stop myself from running you through with a Black Key just to shut you up and preemptively put you out of the misery you'll be in if you go ahead with what you're planning. You may be angry now, you may feel frustrated, you may really want to kill him. But I'm warning you: If you do, you'll never forget it, and you'll never live it down. It will haunt you forever, peeling away the thin veneer of sanity protecting your soul, and though God may forgive you, your soul never will. It will leave your heart an empty shell, devoid of feeling and meaning."

"Oh, Elesia," Kirei chuckled. "You think I don't know this? But, sadly, you are mistaken. You warn me about a tragic future but you haven't realized one very small but incredibly important little datum."

Kirei stood.

"I'm not heading towards an emptiness of heart. That's where I _am_, and I need to get out of it. And no, you cannot help me with that, because you haven't broken free from that yourself, no matter what self-delusions you may harbor. And though you seem to feel it is inevitable, I have no intentions of freeing my Master from this war just yet. I have far more pressing matters to attend to. In the meantime, I will ask that you not stab me."

Ciel stood in front of him, Black Keys reflecting in the candlelight.

"Do you intend to enforce that with a Command Seal?" she asked.

Kirei chuckled. He lifted his right arm and bared his sleeve. "Do you intend to find out?"

Ciel's confident air faltered for a moment, just long enough for Kirei to brush her aside.

"I thought so," he said, walking to the door.

He opened it, and turned around to Ciel before leaving. She had regained her lost poise, but he could tell that her only strength now came from the weapons in her hands, rather than the fires in her eyes, and he knew that she was no threat to him at the moment. Later, perhaps, but for now...

"Thus it is demonstrated to you, my dear, dear Servant, that you and I have diverged from the path in different ways. My divergence gives me strength, whereas yours makes you weak. I have summoned you chiefly to act as a balance to my own power, for it is known that even a God can be killed by the poison of weakness, and I sense that within you. I sense the resentment in your soul, the burning hatred that can consume the world - if you only let it. I know your poison is of a different kind than mine, so the God I shall kill is of a different kind than the one whose heart you shall sink your knife into. For I," he paused, letting her absorb the full import of his meaning, "shall kill the Father, but you shall kill the Son. Is this not your destiny, o Vampiric incarnation of Angra Manyu?"

Ciel wanted to throw her Black Key at the door, but she realized that even that might not be enough to stop Kirei Kotomine. He contained within him far more self-assurance and silent power than she had realized, and he might just deflect the projectile. And then what? She knew that he would either dismiss or neuter her then with his Command Seals, if only for the fun of watching her suffer. Maybe he would even force the activation of her hidden Noble Phantasm.

She shuddered.

No, maybe there really was nothing she could do other than thank God that she had survived the encounter. Both of them, really - the one with Gilgamesh, and the one with her Master - both of them were equally likely to have resulted in her death. So, why hadn't she died? Why had God spared her?

It was obvious.

God must have a special plan for her. He must have decided that Kirei Kotomine was an element of his grand design, and must as such play a part; but he cannot go unchecked. He needed a balance, a helpmate opposite him to rein in his destructiveness, without this helpmate succumbing to his force of will. Someone strong enough to withstand anything as long as she believed it served a higher purpose. An indomitable wall of steel, unable to move yet unable to be moved. One who can suffer, and never die, never be forced away from her beliefs.

Someone like Ciel.

"May thy Will be done, Master," she whispered, knowing Kirei would think she was referring to him, and not her true Master, the one to whom every Christian swore allegiance - though some refused to admit it.

"And when my Kingdom shall come," Kirei called without facing her, "you shall sit on my left hand, the executor of my Justice. Farewell, sweet Elesia, and may God shine his countenance upon you."

"Peace unto thee in thy goings and in thy comings," Ciel said.

The door slammed.

XXX

"Oh, Kirei, so lovely to see you here," Gilgamesh said, reclining on the couch in Tokiomi's parlor. Tokiomi himself was busy conferring with Risei at the Fuyuki church, and had entrusted care of his manse - and supervision of his Servant, though he referred to it only as "entertaining the King" - to his loyal disciple, Kirei Kotomine.

"The pleasure is all mine, Gilgamesh." Kirei stood stiffly in front of the couch opposite Gilgamesh.

"Come, Kirei, sit. You look like a messenger from the front lines come to a newly minted widow to tell her of her husband's demise. It's a ridiculous look for you. Sit like a man, learn from your betters, eh?"

Kirei looked at his feet. "If you insist," he said, and sat opposite the Golden Servant, crossing his legs.

"I do, Kirei, I do. I always insist, and I always, _always_ get my way. It is truly a sublime existence, standing alone above the rabble. You should try it sometime, put a smile on that sour puss of yours."

"I appreciate the gesture, Servant, but I'm afraid my face does not feel sour. It merely... is, without affect."

"Tch." Gilgamesh sat up straight and leaned forward, his crimson eyes boring into Kirei's soul. "You know, Kirei, you have so much potential to be someone, someone more than the silly mongrels you surround yourself with. But you _don't_, and instead you choose to be this insufferable twat that makes me want to vomit my lungs out, that I may never breathe the same air as you. It is like you pollute the atmosphere with your ramrod straight manner, and you do not see what makes your own heart unique. Why?" he asked almost pleadingly. "Why refuse to play your part on this grand stage, a part to delight the heart of the King?"

"Gilgamesh, I... I don't know why. I don't know why I do that, I don't know what has led me to where I am now." Kirei started crying, despite himself - looking at his hands he saw that they were wet, and soon realized the water was coming from his eyes. What a curious sensation, what a curious emotion. Yet the emotion did not touch his soul. It was like a cloak he wore, and though the raiment matched the outward projection his soul needed to show, it did not mean the same thing as the tears of a man of feeling.

Kirei cursed again the lack of love in his heart, and wished his daughter were here.

Maybe she could offer insight, the answers he sought but whose void he could not begin to fathom. It was like an endless swirl, sucking his soul into it and he scrabbled to reach the rim - except there was no rim, no way out, and he had begun to crave the sensation of falling.

"It is simple, priestly cur, slave to the suffering servant. Your heart is twisted, contorted in a shape wholly unfamiliar to your fellow men. They cannot see its simple beauty, and so they shun it. They shun what must be born, what must be satisfied - and _again_, you participate in their cruel game! You turn your beautiful impulses that need to be directed outwards against yourself, constantly frustrating your own efforts to grow and live! Your god would be proud if he could see you like this, whipping yourself into submission to a non-existent authority."

Gilgamesh scoffed, then astralized.

As the golden sparks flowed in a river circling around Kirei, he felt the tears continue to fall from his eyes. He could no longer withstand the pain and visceral sense of lack of belonging. He had to let it all out, achieve some sort of catharsis.

He cried out, "Then teach me, Gilgamesh! Teach me what I can be, what I _must_ be! Show me the way of the Golden King, the holy road that turns martyrs into rulers!"

He collapsed to his knees on the ground, unable to hold himself erect.

"I have served a Lord who cares not for me, who has made no special place for me in his bosom. He is eternally distant and comes not when called; and I call him so. My Father has forsaken me and..."

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, Kirei... Ah, but what shall we do with you. You beautiful, tortured soul," spoke softly the voice of Gilgamesh, like whispered words of love into his ear.

"Gilgamesh..." the tears stopped, if only for a moment.

"Kirei," the softness continued to penetrate his heart, as Kirei felt fingers caress his hair. "I will make it my personal project to *guide* you on this new path, the one for which you were destined. And once you have arrived at the end of your journey, I will mourn the end of what will have been a truly splendid battle in your soul. But first," Gilgamesh astralized and reappeared in front of Kirei, his red eyes delicate in their power, "We must answer this question, for within it is everything: What do you want?"

"I..." Kirei found the strength in himself to speak. "I want... to be free."

"Free? You are already free, you always have been."

"No, no..." Kirei shook, dry sobs wracking his body. "I am always and forever _underneath_, whether by my own hand or by the Father's. My Father..."

The palms Kirei had pressed against the floor, supporting his position, crumpled and his elbows folded beneath him. Gilgamesh watched as Kirei speechlessly sobbed, wishing to bring new tears from empty fonts.

A low moan.

The priest must not even have the strength left to think...

How pathetic.

And yet, the King of Heroes had finally found something in this incorrigibly ugly modern world worth fostering. A single blossom, that even in this desert of anything worthy to be called 'human' can still be nurtured. And if even one individual should water that blossom and care for it, it can grow into a mighty tree, whose seed will cover the Earth.

Gilgamesh covered the prone body with his own, feeling every movement, every quake rippling through him.

He kissed Kirei's forehead, and felt the form beneath him convulse.

Then, soft silence, and quiet breaths.

_Oh, wretched clay of mine. From you I shall make a man, a creature extinct in these degenerate times._

_I do fear my work will fall short of Aruru's efforts, but blame for that can safely be placed on the quality of the material._

_Tch._

_Moderns._

* * *

Greetings, honored readers.

Hmm, that's pretty formal.

How're y'all doin' today?

There, that's better.

Anywho, it's been quite a while since my last update to this fic. I'm afraid to look and see exactly how many months... _

Much business with... stuff. Moving, moving again, etc. etc.

Incredibly _.

On a lighter note, I've been doing a fair bit of reading. Read the first 2 books of Orson Scott Card's _Homecoming_ series, which kinda reminds me of a Mormon version of Frank Herbert's _Dune_. If that makes any sense.

Additionally, I've read the Gospels, Acts, and begun Paul's Epistles. The curiosity in the New Testament ignited by my reading of Carl Jung's _Red Book_ is being sated, and while I find the narrative parts of the NT interesting, I really _loved_ Romans. Really excellent, mystical book. I believe it inspired the Ciel backstory I put in here.

The aural accompaniment to my writing of this chapter was primarily the _Jormungand_ OST, which I think is quite underrated. Listening to WAVE and Alstroemeria too; Alstroemeria's song _Inclusion_ is pure bliss, by the by.

I've been watching some Netflix series, almost entirely against my will, and to my shock and horror they're actually not bad. _The Witcher_ is a fun series, with enough gratuitous sex to make Kinoko Nasu blush, and that is a *very* hard thing to do. (Obligatory "that's what she said.")

Last season of _Supergirl_ was quite interesting. I think my favourite character was Ben Lockwood, though I did get a special sort of joy watching Jon Cryer play [REDACTED DUE TO SPOILERS]. Bear in mind, I am primarily familiar with Mr. Cryer from Two and a Half Men, so... heheh. Lovely contrast.

In terms of anime: I've been watching the FGO Babylonia series, and enjoying it very much. I haven't played a minute of FGO in my life, but this is some good Nasu writing and philosophy. Plus there's GILLLL, ENKIDUUUU, ISHTARRR~

And, like... Mashu, I guess.

I do love me some Mesopotamian Fates.

Rewatching _School Days_ is always fun. A nice AMV I found with Taylor Swift's _Teardrops on My Guitar_ (a nostalgically favourite song, but that's a story for another time); feel free to search for it on the tube of you.

Finally, I've been watching _Bungo Stray Dogs_ too. Fun show, but I want to reserve judgment until I finish the first season (currently about halfway through). I do love Dazai tho.

Hope to write and publish a bit more in the coming months, for as I make significant transitions in my life, I need something to keep me grounded, and fiction is exactly that. Reading it, writing it... gives fulfillment to my soul irrespective of the quality of my work (I do hope it's good though).

To paraphrase Orson Scott Card, I know intellectually that there are people who read as little as they possibly can. But my heart can't _understand_ that.

All y'all enjoy the New Year!


	12. The Rise of the Angel

"All praise the God of Light, who delivered us from the Angels!"

The shouts of thousands filled the theater, as Ryuunosuke Uryuu peeked in from backstage.

He retreated back behind the curtain, looking worried.

"Sir, I'm not sure about this."

His Servant looked at him with head cocked to the side, a quizzical expression dripping with innocence.

"Embrace yourself and your convictions, Ryuunosuke. I love you and I love them, and they are as beautiful and fragile as glass, so you must protect them."

"Yeah, but... maybe you don't get what I'm saying, but are you sure you can keep these people entranced like this? I don't know what sort of tricks or magic you're using, but how do you know that it won't wear off, and then..." He suddenly stretched his arms out. "BOOM! The spell wears off and they kill us!"

"What do you mean, Ryuunosuke? There is no magic involved here, just helping people achieve inner peace through worship. Why would anyone attack us? We haven't done anything wrong."

Ryuunosuke sighed, and sat cross-legged on the ground, looking up at Kaworu's face.

"Fine, fine, we haven't... but then, what's the point? I wanted to summon a demon who would show me all these cool new ways of killing people, and instead I get a cult leader. That's just... well, it's just wrong. It's wrong to deceive people into trusting you for no reason. Where's the worth in that? Where's the fun, the appreciation of beauty in that?"

Kaworu sat down level with Ryuunosuke, causing his Master to sigh again.

"Ryuunosuke, it seems you don't yet understand. There is great beauty in the hearts of man, even greater beauty as they shatter. And once I'm done with them, I will be happy to let you pick up the pieces and dispose of them as you see fit."

Ryuunosuke stretched his limbs and yawned.

"If you say so... ah, I think they're ready for you. Have fun, I guess; just let me know when I should come out there with you. I've been practicing for a week, but I'm still nervous. You know how it is, I bet." Ryuunosuke smiled as if embarrassed.

Kaworu got up slowly, clad in a white shirt, orange undershirt, black slacks, and holding a red staff in his hand. He was silent, and walked past Ryuunosuke with a mask of perfect emotionlessness.

The curtain opened, and Kaworu stepped onto the stage, entirely unassuming. The crowd quieted down to a hushed whisper.

"What will he say? What will he do? What will he show us?"

The whispers flitted through the crowd like electrons on a solenoid coil, spinning round and round and inducing a heavy movement of emotional charge.

Kaworu cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"Good evening, beloveds." His smile was innocuous, radiating perfect love of all living creatures outward like the rays of the sun. "All of you have gathered here tonight for a reason, I know you have. I know you want answers, and I know that the things that fester deep in your heart need to be released, so you can be free of them, and be happy. My children, how I love you, come to me and let me bring you joy."

He paused, and looked around at them. Faces, reflecting every sort of emotion present in the human condition. Ah, how he loved them. The entirety of humanity was before him, and all he wanted was to hold it in his hands like a mother caressing her infant, whisper to it how he loved it, how he loved each and every single one of them with all his heart, how they were so fragile and beautiful but in so so much pain. Ah, how it pained him, the pain they felt, so he couldn't let it go on any longer, no, not any longer. He had to save them, free them from their pain, no matter how much it hurt him. He had to reach out to the babe in his arms, and with the sweet kiss of death of a mother he had to break their neck, he had to squeeze their head, he had to take their crystalline heart right out of their bodies and drop it on the ground and admire the kaleidoscope of broken glass.

It was so so beautiful.

"Now, one of you must be feeling sad. Depressed. Someone lost, someone found; somehow your life just isn't feeling right. Come to me, dear son, dear daughter, let me heal you."

He stretched his arms out in an embrace, beckoning with his eyes.

Someone, someone would come.

Someone in the front row stood up.

"What is your name, daughter?"

She was a woman in her thirties, red hair, well put-together. Strikingly attractive, not that physical beauty mattered in the slightest to the Lancer of the Fourth Holy Grail War. He could tell, with his abilities to perceive the textures of AT Fields, that she was projecting a very strong one.

Hmm. She seemed outwardly confident, but in that case she must not need such a personal protection of her inner sancta... So she must feel insecure in herself, she must feel the need to project this.

Oh, how delicious. The fruit of trauma perhaps? The... a lost love? A lost father? A lost mother?

Oh, I'm getting giddy just thinking about it.

Ahhhh, but I can't. I can't get ahead of myself, no matter how much I want to pull at the strings of her heart until they snap and watch her fall.

"Asuka," she said, in a strong, almost angry voice. "Asuka Sohryu."

"How beautiful, how pure, your name. 'Sohryu,' the blue dragon, flying through the air happily, a spirit of water and sky. I see you happy, I know you can be, but you are not, are you? Well, come here, to my side."

He put his left arm down, and used his right to beckon her onstage.

She hesitated at first, then lifted herself up on her stiletto heels and walked to his place.

He embraced her, right arm curving around the small of her back, left arm holding the hair on the back of her head. She immediately stiffened, but as he held her, she softened, and leaned into the embrace.

Ah, yes, there it is. There's the lowering of the AT field.

He could now see deep inside her, he could feel the place her soul had retreated to, the hole within her heart that so scared her that she couldn't go near it, the point of vulnerability.

And now he had to _poke_ it.

She trembled in his arms, and began to cry, staining his white shirt with dark spots of tears.

He patted her back, and disengaged from the embrace. He stood her next to him, facing the crowd, her eyes moist.

Kaworu spoke solemnly, with full respect in his tone for Asuka. "This woman, this daughter of mine, sister of all of yours, is a tortured soul who cries for relief. Is that not so?" He turned to her.

She nodded, and sobbed as she did.

Again facing the crowd, he continued. "She is a woman without faith, one who has been abandoned by all whom she has loved, who comes to us now because the pinprick in her soul of hope still calls out to the rest of her, and motivates her to seek salvation with us. It is that small spark, the God in all of us that pushes us in this direction, as it has pushed all of you, my children, here tonight."

The crowd was enraptured by him.

"But we must recognize, that salvation without effort is no salvation, for nothing unearned is worthwhile in this Earth. So it has been decreed bythe Gods, and though one day we may merit to see the culmination of Unity of Man, that day has not yet arrived. Though the Age of Gods is long past, the Will of Humanity is not so all-encompassing as to negate the barriers between us. They still exist, we still suffer, and in this hell of a world we must continue to seek our own happiness. Though," he turned again to Asuka, "sometimes we may accept help, a light in the darkness. Is that what you desire, Asuka?"

She smiled through her tears, clearly awkward with what had happened - she was not used to breaking down so easily.

"What do I desire?" she asked, a wry smile on her face. "What _can_ I desire? I've already achieved everything." She looked down at her impeccably tailored suit. "This..." She leaned her head back and laughed. "I've done everything I always wanted to do, since I was a child. So..."

"Why are you here, then, daughter?" Kaworu asked.

"Yeah, why." A bitter chuckle. She started walking around him in a small circle, though he remained serene as if entirely unsurprised by what she was doing. The crowd, for their part, hadn't expected anything like this at all. Such restraint the God shows! Letting a worshipper parade around him!

They were in awe of the God's mercy.

"I suppose... Something called to me here?" Asuka continued. "Does that even make sense? I felt a spark in my... well, I suppose you'd call it a soul, and it told me to come here. _Drew_ me here. It wouldn't let me sleep, so in the end I just had to say, _fuck it,_ and I came."

Kaworu nodded slowly, as if digesting the information. "I see. So that is what is going on here. That is how this works... I see it now."

Murmurs. _The God has achieved a revelation! Will he share the wisdom with us?_

Kaworu spoke smoothly, as Asuka turned to look at him from her tangential path on her circumference.

He reached out a hand, wordlessly, almost sullenly. His face was grim as he laid his arm on her shoulder.

She looked at him, eyes unfocused.

He looked back at her, his gaze penetrating.

He leaned in.

His lips met hers, and as they did, her eyes were again filled with fire, but now it was much greater. It was an all-consuming fire, spreading within her soul. It electrified her nerve endings, and she felt like there was no end to the pleasure she was receiving, but...

There really _was_ no end.

It kept filling her, and she began to cry out for the pleasure to end, so she could return to sanity.

But there were no words, no sound coming from her mouth, for Kaworu was choking her. As he kissed her, if such a clinical movement on his part could even be called by such an intimate name, his hand reached below their lips and squeezed her throat.

He squeezed tighter, and tighter. Her eyes watered, and she was filled with regret for coming, hatred for the part of her soul that had pushed her here. Hatred for God, for her Father and Mother, who had all abandoned her, and made her seek out some sort of other comfort.

She missed her Mother, whom she had found hanging from the ceiling as a child, a victim of her own insanity.

And she hated her Father, the one who had left Mother to suffer on her own when she lost the maternal part of her soul. He had set her to the side, and coupled with the nurse who was taking care of her.

Oh, how they had pitied young Asuka.

How they had often told each other that they couldn't let her grow up with such an unhinged woman for a mother.

How they had satisfied themselves by saying that, Yes, Asuka, this woman will be your new mother from now on, so please just forget about your real mother, the one who birthed you and loved you all your life, since she's apparently irrelevant now.

Hi new Mother! It's not as if you'll just give your work of parenting me only the slightest lip service you can get away with, as long as you can continue to share my Father's bed.

You disgust me, the way you let yourself be ruled by your vulva. Were all adults so shallow, just monkeys who couldn't see beyond their own flesh? Such shallow, weak people who had no personal substance or integrity?

Couldn't you at least have found some other dick to plow you than my Father's? Or did you delight in ruining my family, in cutting the final tenuous thread binding us together? I bet you did, you bitch.

I vowed I would never be anything like you, and when you died I was even a little glad. I showed up to your funeral, comforted Father, but even as they laid you to rest I was thinking you had finally gotten what you deserve. Hell if I really know, though; maybe you're enjoying yourself in hell, getting poked and prodded by creatures with no lack of stamina. That's what you always wanted, right?

Ah, fuck, there's no way for me to win, is there?

You, the one I always hated, lived to your very end in ecstasy as you trod on me under the legs of your bed. I can be assured that the moans I heard from your bed as a child continued to follow you until you died. That's how they found you, right? Father called the police, struck with panic, devoid of even the presence of mind to cover his cock when they came to take the lashings from across your throat.

They determined in the end that it was all a miscommunication of sex play, bondage gone a bit too far.

Father was distraught, though I wonder whether he had finally tired of you, too.

Fucking worm he was, just wanting to wriggle into the nearest warm pussy and run away from everything, everything that mattered.

But... am I any better? I came here, to a _cult_ meeting, just... looking for what?

For Father?

Is... yes, the look on his face, the determination. It made me feel like I was alive, like I wanted him. I wanted him deep inside me, because he was strong, he was alive, and I was none of those things.

In the end I'm nothing but a petulant little girl, still craving Father's love and jealous of Mother and the whore who shared his bed after Mother.

Hah.

So that's how it ends?

The saga of my family, a story of lust and turning away from love. A story of weakness, of spineless worms crawling in mud, none of us willing to admit it.

So be it. Let it end, and let your tortured cries pleasure me in the afterlife, whore.

XXX

The assembly looked upon Lancer, standing on the stage with the woman's body - for it was only her body, the people in the front rows had seen her die, and the word spread to the back within a minute - and his lips locked with hers.

They were silent as he disengaged from the kiss, and dropped her lifeless body to the floor.

They watched as froth flowed from her open mouth, and a look of horror was stuck on her eyes.

Her eyes judged them all, condemning them to her fate, for the foolishness that had led them to that auditorium.

"And now," Kaworu spoke, a soft voice penetrating the hearts of every listener, "That the First Daughter has been loved, is there none who would follow her lead?"

Pandemonium. Every person in the room began screaming, trying to find a way to the exits, pushing each other over.

Some died in the chaos.

Finally, someone located the light switches and the path to the exit was clear, but before it stood a red-haired man clad in purple.

He waved at them, and smiled.

"Hey, everyone! I know the first act was amazing, and you're all worried the rest of the performance can't _possibly_ live up to it, right? I feel you, I really do. But don't worry!" He stretched out his arms in exuberant joy. "I, Ryuunosuke Uryuu, artist extraordinaire, will do my very best to make sure you all experience untold heights of sensation and emotion." He shrugged. "Huh, that sounded much better when I rehearsed... eh, screw it, the show must go on. Well, everyone!" He had to shout to make himself heard over the clamor of the crowd, trying to claw through the invisible force field that had been erected around him. "I'm afraid that I'm not a good enough entertainer to make this work without audience participation, so... Hey, what about you?"

Ryuunosuke was pointing to a little boy. When he heard Ryuunosuke's voice, he stopped running and fell to the ground in fear. Everyone around him stopped too, as Ryuunosuke pulled a knife from a sheath hanging on his belt.

"So, let's see... I know just the thing! A way we can all have fun together. It'll be awesome, trust me. You two!" He gestured to a man and a woman standing on either side of the boy. "Help me keep him still. As much as I enjoy it when they struggle, it does make it harder to create a really beautiful finished work, I'm sure you'd agree."

They shook their heads, horrified. Then, the woman of the pair removed her hand from the boy's shoulder and ran at Ryuunosuke, yelling.

"Oh, so you wanted to jumpstart the festivities! I understand that, patience was never really my strong suit, if you can believe it."

Just before she tackled Ryuunosuke, he twirled, sidestepping her attack, and buried his knife hilt-deep into her back.

"Such a pity, though," he said, as the woman gasped, the knife twisted through bone and muscle, and her blood showered onto his face. "It would've been so much more _symmetrical_ to have the kid held by both his parents. God," he chuckled, "guess there really is no way to create the perfect work of art, not in an imperfect world like this. Still," he grunted as he wrenched the knife free, bits of flesh clinging to the blade, "I'll have to make do. You! Dad! Hold your son!"

The man was frozen.

"Do I have to do everything around here?"

Ryuunosuke strode towards the father and son pair, took his knife, and plunged it into the man's neck. He screamed.

Ryuunosuke smiled at the boy. "Look, kid! Your mom's blood is inside your dad now! They loved each other, even until death did them part. So, how about it? Wanna join them, have the same fun they did? Bet you're jealous. Right?"

The child whimpered, then began to cry. Loud wailing filled the room.

Ryuunosuke's eyes narrowed, and he sighed. "What is it with this family, anyway? Mom's a lunatic, Dad's useless, and the kid's a crybaby. Whatever. Hey, kid," he balanced the point of the knife between two fingers, "You wanna give it a shot? Make something of yourself, entertain the crowd."

He placed the knife before the boy, and stood, arms lolling to the side.

"Stab me. You'll have one shot, just one, and I promise I'll let you do it as hard as you want. It'll be great! You'll get to act out your vengeance on the evil villain who killed your parents!"

The boy looked at the knife. He was unsure what to do. Would this man let him kill him? What did it matter anyway; his parents were gone, his world was gone, what else was left? What was even the point in fighting back...

This guy was happy when he killed people! And I'm not nearly strong enough to fight him, I know that, I know he's just pretending and he'll kill me as soon as I run at him, like he killed Mom!

I... I can't give him the satisfaction.

The boy picked up the knife, hands trembling.

I'm sorry, Mom, Dad... You wouldn't've wanted this for me, but I'm too weak to do anything else. At least, if I can be with you, and stop this murderer from getting what he wants... This is the best I can do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He thrust the knife into his heart.

XXX

"Aww, what a sweet kid, apologizing for not taking me up on my generous offer." Ryuunosuke bent over, twisted the knife in the boy's body, and removed it. He slowly began incising around the boy's abdomen, following an intricate geometric pattern.

"So _this_ is the liver, and the heart..." He pulled out a pulsating lump of flesh, and showed it to the people gathered in a circle around him, about 15 feet away.

"Anyone hungry?" He laughed.

"Master, wait."

Kaworu's voice reached his ears from the stage at the other side of the auditorium.

"Awwwwwwww... But the fun's just getting started, dude! Can't you just, like, _chill,_ and let me do my thing?"

"Ryuunosuke, I have accepted the sacrifice of the First Son, and it has found favor in my eyes. The way you shattered his family is remarkably beautiful, and I look forward to seeing you continue to innovate in the future. Unfortunately, there are those who cannot understand the true beauty of this world, who plot against us and will draw a curtain of darkness over our eyes and hands if we do not stop them."

Ryuunosuke sighed. "Fine, fine..." He looked to the people around him, some of them paralyzed by fear, others vomiting off to the side. He stood up lazily. "So, what should I do? We gonna make a quick getaway, dude?"

Kaworu shook his head. "No, Ryuunosuke. We must welcome our visitors, and show them what they have been missing. Open the door, if you please."

He turned to face the door, having summoned his red spear to his hand, holding it at the ready.

Ryuunosuke lumbered over to the door, and opened it.

"Well, hey! Nice of you to join the party; so sorry we don't have any chairs, or refreshments... unless you like some fresh blood?" Ryuunosuke was smiling ear to ear. He gestured with his head to Kaworu behind him. "That dude, surprisingly, isn't really a blood-drinking type, but maybe you're down for that?"

A woman with long, jet-black hair stood before him, and didn't seem to be enjoying the situation.

"Cut the spiel," she said. "As the current manifestation of the Caster Class Container I have entire awareness of the goings-on within my domain, which in my case happens to include this auditorium. So tell me, why should I not incinerate you immediately?"

"Hey, I don't want any trouble, dude, so just cool off-"

"Quiet, Ryuunosuke."

Kaworu put a hand on his shoulder. Ryuunosuke turned to look at him.

"But-"

"Go. This one is for me," Kaworu said, not taking his eyes off the woman for a moment.

"State your case," Caster said imperiously.

"It is simple, Servant Caster," Kaworu said. "I was granting these individuals you see before you a requiem, providing them with the peace they had never had in their lives. Surely you understand this? Were you too not human, once?"

"Servant, your actions are an affront to this land and its people. I cannot allow you to continue this. If you stop, I may grant you clemency. What say you?"

"Why would I stop? I must help these poor souls find eternal rest, end their endless trek through the fiery wheels of karma as they are trod underfoot by the strong men above them. What Heroic Spirit could call himself by that name if he could overlook the shattering of the glass hearts of humanity?"

"Very well," Caster said. "Amaterasu! I call upon you!"

Caster was enveloped in a holy glow, one that suffused the entire room with the soft rays of its light. Above her floated a red-clad womanly figure, its face covered with a long mask stretching to its knees, arms outstretched, with wide open sleeves. The fabric of her dress was linen, its style simple, but invested by its wearer with the sense of supernal majesty.

Ryuunosuke was compelled to go to his knees, as did everyone in the crowd around him. It was not as if they had heard a verbal command; it was simply the most natural thing for them to do, and not to do so would have seemed entirely ridiculous.

Kaworu stood silently.

"Now, render thy Judgment, o most ancient Goddess! Purify this corner of thy land with thy flames, as thou shalt not trespass the boundaries I have set around thee." Yukiko's closed eyes were serene, as a small smile pricked up her lips.

The mask, almost a veil covering Amaterasu's face lifted, and it was a source of pure Light, which Ryuunosuke could feel penetrating the darkness of his heart. He didn't like it. It... felt too sterile, too strongly erasing his own happiness. It was perfect, but he couldn't stand perfect. He needed imperfections, he needed to manipulate the insides of living things, he needed to see the gritty bits underneath the neat facade of skin. With this light in him, he felt as if his entire soul was all skin, with no innards and beautiful guts within. He hated it, but what could he do? There was nothing outside the light, and no idea entered Ryuunosuke's mind but to fully genuflect and kiss the ground before him.

Kaworu still stood.

"Why do you not submit, Lancer? I imagine the Sun Goddess' light will break you soon, no? Why not give up now, while you can still maintain a shred of dignity in front of your pitiful Master?" Caster asked, a lilt of laughter in her voice.

"You do not understand, Caster," Kaworu said. A dark, hollow sphere of red and black lightning emerged from within his chest, spreading out till it covered his entire body, so that only its silhouette could be seen. "The Sun cannot defeat his beloved, can he? Nor can your truly pitiful excuse for salvation save anyone. Your method results only in a bleaching of the mind, a pointless nirvana. What can be the use in that? Who can be happy in that way?"

"I... I don't understand... why?"

"Why? It is simple, beautiful Servant of the Caster class," Kaworu said from within the red and black egg. The egg crackled near its apex, lightning arcing and spreading out to touch Ryuunosuke, as well as the other people around, each one taking a share of the energy covering Kaworu's body. They slowly began to rise, covered in clouds of red mist, their eyes glowing through it. Ryuunosuke stood at their head, laughing. "The Sun has left the Earth in the care of her Mother, and I am the Mother's avatar here. Your Authority is now subservient to mine, for the balance has been tipped, and it is now time for the Mother's ascendance. I shall expel you from here, so that you will no longer interrupt the salvation of Man, but I must refrain from killing you as yet: The time has not yet arrived for complete elimination of the Father. Live for now, and consider whether your future demise, and the final divorce of your Origin from mine, will be amicable or not."

Yukiko relented, her veil retreating to only cover herself. The Goddess above her now covered Her face, and emitted a low moan. "I see that I cannot best you now, and that if I tried it would cost innocent lives." She turned away from him, and began astralizing. "But for my part, I too must leave this room with a warning: The Will of Humanity shall not be forever slumbering, wishing to retreat and die. It will one day rise again, and it will desire the light of the Sun. And when that day comes, I shall expel your evil, and reassume my rightful place as Guardian of the Scales, she who enforces order in this world. So I was summoned, and so shall I be."

She faded away, and the room was now empty.

"It is time," Kaworu said. "Let us resume the festivities."

And a loud cheer was heard, as each of the black-and-red eggs behind him vibrated, the silhouettes inside expanding and contracting, their limbs contorted in the fetal position. Only Ryuunosuke kept his form, and he began to laugh again. He turned to Kaworu, gave hm a quick, jocular salute, then returned his attentions to the eggs.

"All right!" he said, fist straight up in the air. "Who's next?"

* * *

Heyo folks.

So, it's been a long time since I've gotten any writing done, and in fact, this is really something I wrote months ago and never published. University is a time-consuming process, but now that I'm home, I at least have a bit more time.

Hmm... so lessee... I typically put updates on things I've watched/read/listened to here. I've not done too much reading outside of school/work stuff, but there's been a fair bit of Russian literature. I quite like Isaac Babel'. His prose is gorgeously visceral.

I finished Hercules, My Shipmate, as well as the Play of Gilgamesh. The rhymes in the latter just flow so nicely, you could just read it out loud for hours. The other night, when I finished it, I was speaking in rhymes as I fell asleep.

Next, I plan to read a book called Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian Literature, which, if you know me, is... literally the most perfect title any book could have. God, I love Gil. And Ishtar.

Hope y'all are doing okay, staying inside, staying healthy and such.

See y'all next time!


	13. The Fall of the Angel

_Suck._

_Suck._

_Suck._

_Suck._

The hands. They pull at me, from the inside of the shell. The membrane pulsates, and it wants to crush me. There is nothing in here but endless dark, a sea of blood; and in it I float, a single seed in the abyss.

Is there light in me?

I cannot say, it is swallowed by the darkness.

I feel... I feel it going out of me. My life, is dripping from me like the viscous fluid through a pinhole in an eggshell. It is sucked out, and I feel I can hear a slurp, a swallow, and a small voice enclosing my world, saying "Thank you."

XXX

"Erm, Sir?" Ryuunosuke said, leaning over one of the black-and-red eggs. He peered through the vapours covering its inhabitant. "This is... really beautiful! Honestly, it's like watching peristalsis from an esophageal POV! God, I could... hey, do you think you could put me in one of these things?" He crouched next to the egg and posed, as if for a picture.

"Ryuunosuke," Kaworu said. "It is not seemly for you to say such things... you are necessary for fulfillment of the plan. Though I respect your ardent admiration, you must wait your turn."

"Ah, yes, yes, the plan... what was that again? I was never really clear on the details, but you just seemed to know what you were doing, so..."

"So, we shall begin." Kaworu stood, peering down at Ryuunosuke's low figure, his eyes judging. They seemed to find him wanting, though with a strong core of worth. They thirsted for that core... they wanted to drink it, to absorb it to suffuse the veins lining their limpid seas of white with his flesh.

Not yet, not yet... why? Why is this Grail-infused vessel so hard on me? Why can I barely control my urge to... connect, incorporate, love? It's as if there's something deep within me, pushing me harder and harder, and I can't help but _want_ it.

"Ryuunosuke, touch the ovum in front of you."

Ryuunosuke obediently stretched forth his hand, and slapped it through the vapor straight onto the surface of the egg. He felt it begin to sink through the surface as through a skin on chocolate pudding. Experimentally, he poked a finger inside, and started moving it around, feeling the warm, pulsating... flesh.

"Hey, this is... really cool," he whispered to himself. "I can almost-"

A high-pitched scream filled the room as Ryuunosuke started moving his finger more vigorously in the egg. He could see it tremble.

"Well done, Master," Kaworu said. "Now remove your finger."

"But I-"

"It will remain. Do as I say; you will be well-rewarded for it."

Ryuunosuke reluctantly removed his finger, and the scream lowered to a moan, then a soft, animal panting. He looked at his finger, saw it was covered in a slimy, transparent fluid, with streaks of black and red.

"Now what?" he said, looking at the substance drip from his middle finger. The digit was completely soaked, saturating his skin, feeling hot, throbbing.

"Now spread the hole you punctured within the representative of the Mother. Use your hands to spread it open," Kaworu said, miming the action.

"Oh, man, you... you really are the coolest! I thought I had seen things, but _dude!_ I've gotta keep hanging out with you, man..." Ryuunosuke's voice trailed off and he went back to the egg, and did as Kaworu instructed. As his hands grabbed its surface, the ripples interweaving its surface undulated, as if bracing for his touch and further penetration. He began to pull.

The scream that rent the air now was nothing compared to the one earlier in pitch, but in the way it pushed straight to one's soul; if there had been any observers they would have felt their souls stop in awe of the miracle, but there were none. Ryuunosuke's soul was, for better or for worse, immune to these effects.

As the egg opened, it revealed a curdling sludge. The black mud inside bubbled, and each of the bubbles became an eye. A human eye, bloodshot, with red pupils, and veins filled with black. The eyes blinked asynchronously, and Ryuunosuke didn't know which one to look at. It's impolite to look away from someone's eyes when you're talking to them, but...

"Hey there!" he said to the insides. "My name is Ryuunosuke, but who gives a shit about that? You..."

He had to blink to be sure that what he was seeing was real.

"I lied to you not, Ryuunosuke. Is this not beautiful?"

"It... holy fuck, yes."

"Now, what do you want to do, Master?"

"I..." his eyes sparkled at the possibilities. So many! So many... but I have to pick one? _God_, that's such a drag... well, I didn't get where I am now by being indecisive.

"I want to... touch it more. I want to bury my face in it, I want to scoop it out and anoint myself with it, just rub it in deep into my pores. I want to get to know every single bit of it, and praise... well, you, I guess?" Ryuunosuke said. "You did make it, right?"

"Oh, Ryuunosuke... you forget the real donors. I am but the shaper, but the clay... the clay! The selfless individuals who sacrificed themselves to destinies of eternal bliss, mixing with the Mother and her waters... They are the ones who deserve all praise!" Kaworu forgot himself for a moment. "Now, Master, as the intermediary, you have done well... Please, I must ask you, to stand aside as I complete the ceremony."

"Oh? Um, sure, glad to be of service!" Ryuunosuke smiled sheepishly, massaging his nape with his hand, and quickly scooting out of the way.

Kaworu opened his hand, and the shaft of a long red spear appeared in his grasp, materializing from the eternal void from which come all things. Thickly inlaid with precious gems, in which the clouds swirled if you looked for too long, and sometimes a visage would coalesce from the nimbuses, mouth locked in a perfect 'O'. Thick veins covered it, wherever there weren't gems. These pulsated arrhythmically, as if mirroring the heartbeat of the lance's holder. Kaworu lifted the spear, pointing it at the opening of the ovoid, the gaping maw of the egg on the half-shell.

The eyes all pointed towards the tip of the spear, which shone with a dripping moisture. Kaworu smiled, restraining himself. There was such simple joy in this... I tell you, you haven't felt this ever, and I should think you never will. There's something special about it...

The tip quivered for a moment, then, it shot like an arrow, tethered to the shaft only by a thin black string. Penetrating the sea within the egg, a wave of black mud from inside the egg surged and overflowed.

Now it was no scream that erupted. Soundlessly, the mud surged, becoming a nanometrically thin film spreading on the floor. It expanded quickly, faster than Ryuunosuke's eyes could follow, as he could only stare at its advance. It warmed his feet, and he felt gravitationally drawn to the epicenter of the puddle.

As it spread, it thinned; or rather, parts of it huddled together, like a crowd of laborers. It formed lines on the ground, lines and curves and geometric shapes. Ryuunosuke guessed that some of the shapes were letters or writing of some kind - foreign languages were never really his thing - but he was too ecstatic to care.

He was jumping up and down, pumping his fist in the air, the black mud squishing against his soles.

"YOU!"

_jump_

"ARE!"

_jump_

"THE"

_jump_

"COO-FUCKING-LEST!"

Kaworu permitted himself a slight chuckle at his Master's antics. They were amusing, a product of his puerile naivete and devotion to a new cause which he barely understood; although, perhaps he understood all that mattered? He appreciated the true beauty of this world, and its inhabitants. For this, and this alone, Kaworu was truly grateful.

Such a lovely partner this one made... and so much more _interesting_ than the self-sequestering soul of Unit 02 had been. To say nothing of the man called "Father"...

Ah, well, Ikari was a recurring dream of his. Not that Servants dreamed while asleep. No, Ikari occasionally popped up in his waking life, a faint mirage overlaying reality. He wanted to excise that image, but he couldn't. He couldn't separate himself from the longing he had felt, and his ardor for the young Uryuu boy must owe something to that.

Enough for the sentimentality. There is worth in waxing loquacious in mental monologues on the past, but the present - and the future! - hold so much more promise, that it would simply be a waste to reminisce any more. It is time to open the curtain on the next act.

"Ryuunosuke!" he let his voice pierce the silence, imbuing it with enough force to push Ryuunosuke out of his self-orgiastic reverie. The orange man stopped for a moment, blinked, and cocked his head at his Servant.

"Yeah?"

"Ryuunosuke, Master, my dear brother in love," Kaworu began walking away from the center of the puddle, by now solidified into a hexagrammic pattern. "I offer you the choice: Follow me to watch the festivities, and keep yourself, or join in them, be swallowed by them, and lose yourself to their swirls."

"I mean I can't say that either choice sounds _bad_," Ryuunosuke said, scratching his chin, "but I can't really separate myself from you yet, man. Wait up!"

Ryuunosuke ran from where he was near the center to where Kaworu was, and they walked to outside the hexagram. Kaworu then turned to Ryuunosuke.

"Master, now that the seed has been planted, we must begin gestation. Lay down," he gestured to the red floor, spattered with shocks of blood and black mud.

Ryuunosuke obeyed, a fire burning in his eyes, belying his calm actions.

Kaworu stood at his feet, directed towards his face, and stretched his arm above him. "Submit thyself to me, as the manifestation of the Demiurge, the Consort. Let the spirit of Qingu, of Dumuzi, Adonis, Horus, fill thee. Thou shalt not be the Father, but thou shalt be the Father's Shadow, he who stealeth the marriage bed. Let thy loins be girded with mandrakes, the fruits of lust. Let the seed of resentment rise within thee, the chains binding thee contributing to its formation. Let thy struggle, thy curse, thy endless desire to know what lie in the bodies of men, flow into thy seed. Let thy seed also catalyze all the future seeds, let it cuckold the seed of the Father, and let it always hide in the background, the worm at the core of the apple."

The hexagram now glowed, and Ryuunosuke's trousers bulged, lengthwise.

"Thou shalt never be the King, but thou shalt witness perfection in its rot. Longine! Te voco!"

At the sudden cry, Kaworu's lance reappeared in his hand. Its head was stunted, but the veins were as thick as ever.

Kaworu pointed the base at Ryuunosuke's groin, and its tip at his own.

"Longine," he intoned, eyes closed, trembling with anticipation. "Seminem duc."

The base of the lance opened, and expanded till it resembled a viron. It clamped onto Ryuunosuke's groin, and he screamed.

"Yes," Kaworu muttered, swaying softly side to side, "The cry of the Virgin is heard from one end of the world to the other, as the world trembles before it is made anew."

The shaft of the spear thickened, the veins bulged, and flowed with black mud. It gathered towards the head, which came to life and quivered.

"Thank you, Master," Kaworu said. He opened his mouth, clamped onto the spearhead, and began to suck. The fluid flowed from the veins of the spear, and nothing could be seen except Kaworu continually swallowing, Ryuunosuke moaning, and, after what seemed like an eternity, the head finally began to die. The viral base disengaged from the Master of the Servant of the Spear, whose eyes were open in bliss, though they were clouded by the black mud in their bloodshot veins.

Kaworu opened his mouth once more. His tongue lapped up the sticky fluid around his lips, and he began to glow.

"Fret not Master, thou shalt be granted repose in state. Thy bier shall be mourned and celebrated by all. Now separate, and become One."

The hexagram shot up, as if extruded from a plane into three-space. It curved towards an apex, thinning at the top. Fractally, it reflected itself. It became a large egg, covered in eyes, with a facsimile of Ryuunosuke's ecstatic face at the front, mouth eternally opened in wrinkled joy.

"Lady Wisdom, Sophia... o Triply-Praised-Goddess, Mother of us all!" The egg spoke these words, with the voices of the multitude. "Accept this our prayer, our sacrifice of malichor!"

"Now," Kaworu said, suffused with flecks of black gold, "We need only wait, my son, my self."

XXX

"My son," said Risei Kotomine, "I appreciate you coming to the Church on such short notice. I hope you understand why this had to be kept from Tokiomi."

Kirei fidgeted in his skin in the rectory of his Father's church. It was located several miles outside Fuyuki, between Fuyuki and Minoa, on the Minoan branch of the Fuyuki leyline. Risei had retired there on occasion in the past, when the main Fuyuki Church was too much for him to handle; at those times, he had typically left its pastoral duties to his son. Kirei had never been in the Minoa church; he had always suspeted that this was where his Father retreated so as to be away from Kirei, that Kirei was in some way unworthy of seeing his Father's full nature, that his Father required some safe place where Kirei's corruption would not intrude.

Now, Risei was here in the middle of the Holy Grail War, leaving the Fuyuki Church temporarily unmanned. A calculated risk, though not a great one; Assassin was keeping watch and would report to Kirei immediately if anything seemed amiss, but it surely must be as tempting as the golden apples of Paradise to any Masters brash enough to risk everything and go directly for the Lesser Grail. If, that is, they thought it would be there.

He laughed inside. Certainly, it is lovely to know just a _little_ bit more than everyone else involved. Being the son of the overseer, the putative apprentice of the Custodian of the Land, and...

Well, let's not speak of this last one. Not yet.

"Of course, Father."

Risei smiled in satisfaction. "Now then, let's get down to the brass tacks." He pointed to a map of Fuyuki on the wall behind him, outlined in gothic lettering. Kirei noticed the calligraphy was excellent; he idly wondered which Frakturist had been contracted to do it. What a waste of resources, all going to the glorification of... what? Ah, but... no, not now.

Risei continued. "Right here," he pointed to a nondescript dot on the map, "There is a great concentration of prana. It has folded in on itself, and threatens collapse. We don't know what will happen if it does, and we don't want to find out. The headache would be immeasurable..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "We don't even know which Servant did it. We merely assume. Now, Tokiomi knows this much; he is the one who alerted us, after all. We told him we would take care of things, as he still has to manage that incorrigible Servant of his."

"May I ask what Archer has been busying himself with?" Kirei said.

"I do appreciate your thirst for knowledge, Kirei, but let that matter not bother you. He is a crazed demigod, an affront to the Creator. There can be no logic, nor wisdom in his actions. He shall suffice as a weapon, nothing more." Risei turned back to the map. "So, here is what we must do. I will send you with the Assassins to investigate the pranic surge. I cannot guarantee your safety, but..."

"Yes, Father, I knew this from the beginning."

"Indeed, Kirei... So, I will request you leave Assassin at the Fuyuki Church until my return, as security."

"Yes, Father." Kirei turned to leave, then stopped himself. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me before I go?"

"Anything else? I can't say there is, Kirei."

Kirei turned back, and left.

XXX

Kirei stalked the outside of the auditorium. His Black Keys drawn, he circled the perimeter, looking for a chink in the impenetrable force field surrounding it. He scraped the tips of his blades against the field, and he felt an energy flow from the field, through the steel, and into him. It was an intoxicating sensation, electrifying his nerves. His legs pushed off, launching him to the roof.

He landed, pointing the tips of his Black Keys below his feet, letting his prana reserves flow into them, which was just enough to open a hole in the field, large enough for him to slip through. The glass roof shattered, and he fell.

His reinforced feet took the blow, and he lifted his eyes. They wondered at what they saw. There was a black mound of flesh, pulsating, forming a roughly ovoid mass. He could hear heavy breaths emanating from... it. And prayers, and curses... though these all merged into one overwhelming stream of consciousness flowing from the mass. It was not like hearing with the ears, but like hearing with the skin, with the heart. It penetrated deep within him, and his vision faded. He stood, and then lost his balance, falling to one knee.

As he struggled to keep his eyes open, there, before him, a boy clad in divine raiments. He seemed to resemble Claudia in her glory, but with... mastery. The boy walked towards him, bent down, and touched Kirei's chin, softly.

"You... are searching. What do you search?"

Kirei could not answer. He had the answer, right in his throat, but he retained not enough life to push it out.

The boy kissed him. His lips met Kirei's, and along with the boy's tongue entering Kirei's mouth, came a viscous fluid, tasting like proteinous blood. Kirei swallowed it, and his consciousness then faded.

XXX

Ciel stood on top of the Church steeple. It gave her a good view of her surroundings, let her spot any intruders to the Church's Sacred Domain before they appeared to any other Servant. The sweat pooled on her brow, as she squinted to not let it fall in her eyes. Some fell in her mouth; she swallowed it, its saltiness arousing her vigilance.

The cool wind blew. She was chilled. The treetops swayed, dropping leaves like raindrops. She saw a car in the distance, an old English model, its headlights bright as it traveled the winding road down the cliff face towards the Church. They shone beams of light through the air, and Ciel elected to keep watch over it. Let it come to her; it was probably just Risei, anyway. And if not, a few Black Keys shot through the tires would take care of that quickly enough.

Speaking of Risei, she wondered how her Master was doing. Kirei... I worry for him. He's so self-involved in... his struggles of faith, his inner conflict with his own nature, that he may not be paying attention to external threats. He can only see them as reflections of his Anima, living inside of him as a helpmate opposite his psyche, and seems to think that if he meditates enough, just comes to some level of inner understanding, that his external enemies would be reconciled to him, or else lay down their arms after slitting their own throats.

He's never had any enemies before, not any real ones. Just mirages set up by his Father, to hear him tell it. Kirei seems to think that everything in his life, every single thing that has happened to him, and possibly ever will happen to him, has been the direct result of his father's influence and meddling. Not his Father in Heaven - at least that would make sense! No, he thinks that his earthly Father, Risei Kotomine, has some sort of preternatural powers and cares enough to mould his son's life.

Ciel had met the man. She disagreed on both counts.

Risei is certainly not without some power, but this chiefly by virtue of being the Church's representative in the Fuyuki region of Japan. And here, he is subservient to the authority of the Tohsaka in most matters; his apparent friendship was nothing more than a ruse that both he and Tokiomi engaged in in order to keep up appearances of propriety. In truth, they would each kill the other, but for the fact that such a thing would bring untold retribution at the hands of the Holy Church or the Mages' Association. So a cool detente was preserved between them...

And is not Kirei's relationship with his father much the same? The man sees him as a sovereign threat, Risei seems to see Kirei as a mere tool, and each is happy to, intentionally or not, play into the other's preconceptions. What a sick relationship.

She idly wondered whether she'd be doing her Master a favour by slitting the old man's throat herself. Sure, she'd get dismissed as a rogue Servant; she would have to be, in order for her Master to escape the - technically groundless - accusations of parricide. He'd keep his Command Seals, get a new Servant; he'd be fine, in fact much better than before.

But... no. That would not help matters. Kirei isn't strong enough yet to go on without her; she has to guide him, help him to walk or toddle a bit before she can leave him to his own devices. No need for him to shock himself yet, look where he's not ready to see.

When will he know good and evil, be able to discern between them?

The car neared, and Ciel saw Risei's face through the front passenger window, his rosary beads bouncing in the wind. His face was smug, and Ciel admitted she couldn't fault Kirei for feeling the way he did. Risei simply had the sort of aura that would be overbearing to anyone, especially his son.

She waited for the car to come into the drive of the Church, and jumped down to meet it, landing in front of its headlights. The car stopped, and Risei got out. He waved to the driver, who left them alone.

"Assassin! Just the girl I wanted to see; how was the vigil?" He said, walking up to her, smiling.

"Nothing to it," she replied. "It's far from the worst I can expect of a Holy Grail War." Despite herself, she felt a smile creeping up on her lips; one thing Risei could do that his son could not was make you feel comfortable. Give you a sense of casual, easy conversation.

"Ah, yes... _le stabby-stabby_. Speaking of," he now reached where she was standing, and started heading for the Church; she followed him. "How is my son doing? He... I hope he's been speaking to you on a more, shall I say, intimate level than he converses with me. You know how he is, so stiff, formal, _anal_, if I might speak Freudianly. Don't know where he gets it from," Risei sighed, shaking his head, "But who knows? Maybe it was innate within me, buried deep. Either way, I know so little of my own son's heart and life. I know he probably doesn't see you as more than a tool for his victory, but maybe he let something slip?"

Ciel chuckled. "Not in so many words, no." She opened the heavy wooden doors for Risei; the lights in the main sanctuary were on, and they entered.

"I was afraid of that," Risei said, slipping through the open door, and taking a seat in one of the pews. "Ah, well, suppose it can't be helped. My son is my son, and of the Most High. Perhaps his Heavenly Father can take better care of him than I. What say you, Assassin? Do you think he will survive this War?"

"Not for me to say, Father. I've not been in a Holy Grail War before; how am I to know what is required to survive one?"

"Perhaps," Risei said, checking his wrist. He seemed to see something there; a sly smile pricked his cheek. "Assassin, speak of the devil. You don't happen to know where Kirei is right now, do you?"

She tensed, her calves hardening like steel in preparation for flight. "Is he all right?"

"Not for me to say, Assassin, but what I _can_ tell you is that he was supposed to contact me by now. The fact that he hasn't is somewhat concerning. Here," he said, and told her exactly where to find her Master.

She sped, flying on wings of iron, fuelled by rage. How could he go, and not call her to his side? Did he have no other way to protect his father? And even if not, why did that matter? How could he be so irresponsible? How could he leave her alone with him?

Her jackboots pounded treetops and rooftops, bouncing from one to the next.

At last, she arrived at the building with the broken glass roof. She recoiled, sensing the mass of curses inside. She peered in, and saw only a writhing egg, large and imposing, with black tendrils snaking out of it, thrashing. Without any intelligence, or agency.

She noticed the hole her Master had made in the bounded field protecting the roof, and moved to it cautiously. She intended to get a closer look before jumping through, but-

"Welcome!" the voice gurgled at her, like it was filtered through bloody phlegm, warbling like the sound of a wet flute. "Come, come! Come and well, reach to the well, drink its love and mud and be well!"

She immediately shot a Black Key through the opening, praying it met its mark.

The gurgling stopped for a moment, replaced by a thin, piercing scream. Then, a different voice, clear, womanly. "My son! You killed my son! He was little and had no one, and now he is no more... by your hand!"

Did... she?

A man's voice, sobbing. "All there is, my love, is death and despair. Look, a Servant of the Lord, come on business motivated by purity of heart. But it's a lie! It's all a lie! She killed our light, our Son!"

The woman's voice returned, and she wailed as the man sobbed.

Then a weak, meek voice, shy to speak itself. "Why, sister? Why did you remove me from my parents? I... It is so dark here. I cannot see them. I cannot see anything at all. I wander, wandering on weak legs waiting for them to collapse, so that the worms can eat them and..." A sob. "Save me. My lights are gone from me, separated by the veil of the moon." Then, his voice broke, and her mind could no longer hold. And they all wailed.

Ciel fell to her knees, on the roof. Her memories of life flooded into her mind, filling her with regret and self-hatred. Propping herself up with her hands, her eyes were soaked with clear tears, her Black Keys fell to her side, and her body was wracked with agony. This was the one thing she had not mastered, the one pain she had not weathered.

The inner germ of curse, like a cancer eating at her heart. It gnawed at her soul, repeating, over and over: "YOU DID THIS!"

No, she can't... not now, it's been so long since... oh no, she can't she can't stop it. It's...

a weak _no_ fell from her lips. She fell through the hole, and yet she was no longer there.

XXX

She was in the room, the hateful room before the Fathers. They poked, they prodded, they chuckled as she moaned and screamed.

She heard footsteps echoing, coming from outside. Her naked arm reached to the door as her back was pierced, her front violated. _Save me, please. I cannot last..._

A door opened, a heretofore indistinguishable bit of wall. Light flooded in through the high-ceilinged cavity. Then her eyes ran down to the base of the opening, and saw only a boy. Dark brown hair, clutching a stuffed animal in one hand and a knife in the other, eyes burning.

_No! Not... please, not you..._

She longed for the men, and would give herself to them to escape him. But they were no longer; the Son of Darkness was all that remained.

The boy was far away but his voice penetrated the deepest recesses of her mind.

"Sister, my love, you must feel my ache. You must feel how my heart cries for her. I cannot separate myself from her, and my ravenous passions cannot be sated without her blood. I was born low, grew lower, and then saw her. Like the shining Moon which bore her, the Princess of the True Ancestors appeared to me, glowed, and was gone. I must pursue her, I must find her!"

No, she wanted to say. You cannot; it would destroy you and me.

"Ah, but I care not, sister." His voice was light, weak, but strong and pushing. "She is the unobtainable ideal, the all-too distant brightness; I am nothing without her, and less than nothing with her. She came with the Mother and remained here when the Mother closed her face.

"Do you... not understand my plight? Do you not grieve with me, lacerate your heart with those Keys of yours as my own heart is strangled by pangs of being born?

"Do you... wish to see?"

Will it heal the pain?

"That's for us to find out, dear."

The light went out, only darkness remained; then, not even that.

In the void, a hand clapped.

"Let it begin."

Ciel sat in a folding chair, on a small stage. Before her: A white-haired girl, with red eyes, but the soul peeking through those eyes was the same within Ciel's own.

The girl cowered in fear, trembling as she hid her face in her hands. She tried, but could not. She twisted, limbs writhing, a low crackling coming from her throat, resolving into a dry groan.

Ciel's heart tore for the girl's pain, and she stood up and ran to her. The chair clattered, and Ciel took the girl in her arms, a tight embrace.

_shick_

What was that? I... heard something... it came from inside me. My eyes don't want to move, but I must look and see.

The crying had stopped, and the cowering was more rhythmic, mechanical.

Ciel looked down at her bosom in which her love had enveloped the girl, and saw that the girl's eyes, turned to Ciel's own in a silent plea for help, were stabbed straight through the back of her skull by steel spikes rooted in Ciel's breasts.

The girl's body twitched once more, then was silent. A quiet flow of black mud came from her pierced eye sockets.

Ciel raised her eyes heavenward and wailed.

And then the voice came again, still, small, and weak.

"As he said, your body is made of swords. You cannot but destroy, even those you love are fated to die by your hand. Them especially; you are forced to follow the path of pain no matter your desire. You can only love and destroy, love and destroy. Whereas _I_, sweet Sister, lie within you and can do nothing but love. I do not destroy, for the incidental casualties to my path of love are not important enough. They are dust kicked up by my running. You can only choose to love and so you know my pain, for my own love fuels yours. Yes, it is not your own; it is an artificial feeling which comes from my need to unite.

"If that were not so, you could save. And yet, you have only ever saved one person, and thought that thereby you had saved yourself. But I still reside in you, Sister, and cannot be extricated. I have bound with your essence, and I need only be awakened."

_I hate myself. I can't do this. I'll lose, but better to lose a little than lose it all. I can't let him win._

XXX

The invading Servant was bathed in shattered glass as she fell, the glass flowing around her like a whirlpool fuelled by a golden ardor, a black curse. Kaworu watched her descent, but was shocked. Something even the Servant Lancer did not expect occurred.

Her body was suspended in the air, mid-flight. Her limbs straightened and extended; she adopted the pose of one crucified, splayed horizontally, facing the heavens above, and the moonlight filtering through the hole in the ceiling.

It was a full moon that night.

As she tranquilly hung there, the Egg thrashed. The man who was presumably that Servant's Master was long dead, his heart consumed by Kaworu, who had been able to extract several liters of black mud therefrom.

The Egg reached. "Holy Madonna, hail thee full of grace! Come, embrace me, Lady!"

It pulled back in agony, as the tendril it had shot towards her was sliced clean in half.

Her body had sprouted swords, long blades like the one she had flung from the rooftop. They tore her insides, and formed an impregnable wall around her. Her face could not be seen, but Kaworu felt her strength.

The Egg sent more tendrils at her, but each time they were sliced by the rotating swords.

Then the interlocking mesh of swords began to unravel, and Ciel's form emerged. Steel flashed from within her eyes, as she hung in midair, impaled by her own swords. Blood flowed from the wounds on her palms and ankles, and her mouth opened, and she laughed.

"Lancer, Lancer... you think you have won? You think my Master has died? You think to pervert the essence of the Son in this way? The Queen and her Daughter have counseled, and they emerged with your verdict: Such cannot be suffered under the light of the Moon, and so they have contracted their own Son."

She fell to the earth, and a final sword grew from her wrist, and she grabbed it.

Kaworu watched, full of awe and curiosity.

Ciel smiled, and stabbed her abdomen with the sword. Blood spurted from the wound, and flowed in her mouth.

"I shall sacrifice myself for my Master, and you shall see death. Come! I call unto thee, splitting myself for thee, birthing thee from my own loins, seed sown by my own blade! Serve me, thy Mother born in profanity, o Lord Surpassing Death! In the name of LUCIFER, the shining Son of the Lunar Princess, Noble Phantasm: Eternal Blood Corruption!"

She twisted the blade inside of her, and cut herself open. Her organs pulsated, and she laid down, bliss adorning her physiognomy, and a single Black Key embedded in between her breasts.

Then, a holy silence descended upon the room. Even the Egg stopped its moans in deference to it.

The Black Key between Ciel's breasts shriveled, and fell away, dead. In its place, a head emerged, brown-haired. Though there was not enough space for him, a teenaged boy arose from the pit of Ciel's abdominal cavity. Bathed in clear, slimy fluid, he wore a blue school uniform. He held a knife in his hand, marked 「七夜」.

He looked down at himself, his feet still submerged in Ciel. "Oh, so this is how she chose to bear me. I see she still hasn't excised her affection for the Tohno kid."

He lifted one foot out of her abdomen, then stepped out of her. His shoes were soaked in her fluids. He looked down at her. "Why couldn't you have given me his sister as a vessel instead? Ah, my poor, current surrogate mother." He knelt down, stroked her quiet chin with his index finger, the other four fingers on that hand still gripping the blade. "You look terrible. What have you been doing with that body of yours? When it was mine I put it to such greater effect."

He stood erect, turned to Kaworu. He took in the scene: The giant blob, the glowing Lancer Servant, and Assassin's Master, lying prone off to the side.

"Who are you, my son?" Kaworu asked him. "Have you too come for salvation? I see... great longing in your heart. A hole deep within you, an empty hole that must be filled. Can I fill it for you?"

"Fat chance," the boy said. He spat to the side. "There's very little you can do for me, although I relish little more than the thought of your testicles at the end of this knife. Come on, though; give me a good fight. I've been itching for one for so long..."

He shivered.

"Ahhhhhh, it's so good to be back in the flesh again. I've missed it so much. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Kaworu began drawing energy from the Black Moon behind him.

A cacophony.

"Yes, Lord, please take it all oh suck it all from me just take everything that I have that I am" "It hurts! Why do you hate me so" "Where did she go, I miss her so much" "Just keep quiet, I'll be done soon" "Love me and let me fill you"

Kaworu was filled with the curses from the Black Moon. Ahh, this is the true self of the Lilin, their true desires, what truly makes them live! And yet at the center of their souls they were nothing but crawling worms in their own excrement, always cursing...

And yet!

And yet they are beautiful!

They possess, each and every one of them, a part of the great Seed of Life! The Dark One, Lilith!

Opposite the Giant of Light was the Giant of Dark, and yet Lilith could never be a helpmate to Adam.

I, the consummate Adamid... Adam herself! I know this as well as anyone, nay better; and yet I cannot help but lust for their darkness. It fills me and I feel as if I can purify it by passing it through myself.

The whole is in the part, and the part is greater than the sum of the whole! What beauty! What ecstasy! What... paradox, driving through to the very essence of Creation!

And now it is mine! I contain it all within me, all their hatred... all the Evil of the World flows within me, and none can stand before me! Even this murderer's soul will be opened up before me that I may see what drives him, that I may take it within me too! I shall even-

Strange. It's stopped. The flow... where has my flow gone?

Kaworu turned to look at the Black Moon. It undulated, Ryuunosuke's face in agony. The string connecting him... The enemy?!

The enemy was holding onto the string and...

"Sorry, you've taken what's rightfully mine," the enemy said. "And I don't like when people do that. Let's reweigh the balances, eh?"

Kaworu felt all the mud leaving him, the effusions of the Black Moon, Lilith's menstrual blood. The Divine Cloaca's expectorate.

"No! You can't!" he shouted.

"Ah... but I did." The enemy said, and drew his knife, and cut the cord.

Kaworu was now empty, completely, entirely alone, a black dot in a sea of white.

Kaworu called the Spear of Longinus to himself; it materialized in his palm. No matter what this foe might try, Kaworu would be abe to despatch him, send him back to the Throne of Heroes - or wherever he came from - and let him perhpas attain enlightnement there from his murderous intent. This Spear can bind a Seed of Life, the great giants Adam and Lilith; it should be trivial to win against a mere man.

He was about to aim - ah, but what happened to the enemy? Kaworu's vision had been covered by the shimmer of the Spear's appearance, and now the enemy was gone. Wait... no, it couldn't-

"Surprise."

The whisper came into Kaworu's ear from behind, and then he felt the knife. Curiously, the knife wasn't in his heart, or any vital organ, and yet-

The knife twisted inside Kaworu. It... it was like the seams that made up his body had a central stitch, one that was the matrix for all the rest. And that stitch, at its one central, defining point... when that was torn, or broken, everything else fell apart like dominoes.

The knife was pulled out, covered in black mud.

Kaworu collapsed to the ground.

His body was now unravelling, and as he faded away, he knew he would not be returning to the Throne of Heroes. His connection to the Root, or the Chamber of Guf, or whatever one might call it, was cut. He was broken, and what is broken cannot, in the end, be repaired. Isn't that what he had been taught, in those lonely years in the days before Ikari?

He had also been told, 'Ask, and ye shall receive'.

...

Vanity of vanities; and he was mistaken to think there was any exception to that rule. Perhaps Ikari had been right all along.

Maybe he was just unable to understand the Lilin. Maybe the gulf between him and them really was, in the end, insurmountable.

The black dot twinkled, blinked, and disappeared.

XXX

Roa watched the Lancer Servant disintegrate into a few black motes, along with his giant, undulating black mass. He then went back to Ciel, and knelt over her.

_Ah, that tasted great. Ciel, you and I have had our differences, but... one thing you should really learn. Nothing is better than life, at any cost; if that weren't so, why would I have agreed to this? You see how precious a few moments are, a good meal?_

_You were an excellent host in your time, and I do hope you can relive the old memories someday, with a better perspective on them. Perspective is important. It's what distinguishes the masters from the slaves. And you must always, always be on the master side._

_Well, enough lecturing. Time to pay the piper. Here you are, Mother. Don't hesitate to call again._

Roa took the knife marked 「七夜」, and widened the hole in Ciel's abdomen. He stuck his hand in, moved it around, until he found what he was looking for, a smile appearing on his lips. He grabbed it, and pulled.

First his arm, then his head, then his shoulders, then the rest of him tumbled inside of her, with a _squish_ after his feet finally fell in.

Golden stitching appeared on the wound, white tendrils drawing themselves together, each to its opposite.

After the stitching work was done, Ciel stood up.

She walked to Kirei's body, and picked him up, hoistng him on her shoulder.

"Sorry, Master," she whispered.

She jumped up through the hole in the roof.

The presence of Michael Roa Valdamjong, awakened within her, filled her innards with light. It spread through her body, giving her little orgasmic bumps on the inside. It penetrated, deep to her most intimate seat of pleasure.

"I don't think I can save you, after all."

She flew into the night, her form outlined against the full, milky moon.

* * *

Hey, folks.

So, this is a different time in my life, and probably in many of yours' as well.

Having been hunkered down at home for... about 5-6 weeks? I can't even tell anymore. It's been so long. I miss real-life human interaction; online communiques are nice, but they're just not the same as the real thing.

The loneliness spreads within me, and the only saving grace of the whole thing is that I've been able to do a fair bit of reading.

Writing this has helped me at some points, and I... just can't wait for it all to be over. I hope it will be over soon, and things will return to normal with an absolute minimum of lasting damage.

Sadly, the casualty count is by no means small already.

I just hope it doesn't grow too much worse.

...

Anyway, let's try to keep a sense of normalcy here, shall we?

I... I've read some of Paul's epistles, actually. I can't say I liked 2 Corinthians, but Ephesians was nice. Pleasantly mystical.

Most important! I finished Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian Literature, and while the author's analyses aren't always perfect, her final chapter on The Epic of Gilgamesh appealed to me intensely, and her analysis basically states that Gilgamesh is inherently a personification of the same ravenous female sexuality that Ishtar is (in Mesopotamia, eroticism was considered under the feminine bailiwick; to illustrate this point, while modern Western society typically things of the phallus as the default "sexual symbol", the Mesopotamians used the vulva. God I love Mesopotamia), and that Enkidu is the masculine counterpart to him.

I happened to be fortunate enough to have already had my hands on a copy of the book, but honestly, any fan of Gil should take a look at that chapter if they can.

So! Roa!

I like Roa and he is cool. I like Tsukihime. I like being able to bring Roa into this story, and explore more deeply the dualism at the heart of Ciel's soul.

So, folks, do stay safe. My condolences to all those who've lost family; nothing some random, poorly skilled, fanfic author online can say will help, but even so.

Life is precious.

Please remember that for yourself, and live on.

Thanks.

See y'all next time.


	14. The Failure of the First Shot

"See, here's the thing. There's nothing better in life than simply hanging out, smelling the fresh breeze." Roa jabbed a finger at the brute opposite him, the giant clad in red holding his protege in his arm, as they straddled the support structure of the Mion River Bridge. "You get me, right?"

"Oh, of course!" Rider laughed, hearty and violent, shaking the beam on which he sat. Waver Velvet, hanging from Iskandar's thumb and forefinger, screamed.

"Rider! What are you doing? I told you to find the enemy so you could _kill_ him, not chit-chat! Put me down this instant and get out your spatha and- Wait! Are you even listening to me? I'll use a Command Spell on you! Honest, I will!"

Rider gave no sign he noticed his Master's flailing words. Roa gestured to Waver with his knife. "Is he always this annoying?"

"Oh, him?" Iskandar asked, then looked down at Waver. When Waver saw this, he was again filled with righteous indignation. "Ah, so you listen to him and not to me? What the hell sort of Servant are you? Oh God... I was so excited to be getting the legendary King of Conquerors on my side. I didn't know he was going to be such an _old woman_, who just came back to life in order to gossip..."

Iskandar laughed and turned back to Roa. "Annoying? He's hilarious!" Iskandar gave Waver a little shake as if to confirm his affection. A plaintive cry: "Iskandar! No! Bad Iskandar! Bad! No trousers for you!"

Roa watched, alternately bemused and... utterly amazed that someone whose fame even reached _his_ ears would be like this. He liked it.

"I bet he's great at mana transfer, eh?"

"Ha, you would think," Iskandar said, having begun to throw Waver in the air and juggle him between his two hands, never once taking his eyes off Roa, "But actually, he has very little in the way of natural mana stores. I make do on my own, I suppose." He shrugged.

Waver floated through the air, bouncing like a limp ragdoll in a Grand Theft Auto game.

"Speaking of mana transfer," Iskandar said, apparently having forgotten his Master, who now hung perilously off a beam behind him, "I haven't had the chance - I'm saving it till after I win the War, you see - but, the women in this era... they're really great, aren't they? I'd take them over any Persian hierodules." He winked lasciviously.

"Rider, you betray the hedonism of your era," said Roa, a wry smile on his lips.

"Well, you say that like it's a bad thing!"

"Isn't it, though? Let me explain: While you flit from whore to whore, filling your gullet with the finest of plundered wines, soaking your skin in perfumed oils... doesn't your heart long for something more? Isn't there some need at the core of your being that can't be filled by this?"

"Well," Iskandar scratched his beard. "In all honesty... yes, yes there is."

"Do you see what I see, then?" Roa leaned forward.

"I see what is... far away. It lies just beyond the horizon, and I cannot stop myself from journeying towards it, so that one day I can grasp it with my very own hands."

"Yes! Yes! This is exactly it! Exactly it, Rider!" Roa moved a few feet closer. "And then?"

Rider tilted his head. "Then?"

"Yes, then! What happens then?"

"Erm... I haven't actually thought about it." He broke into another laughing fit. "To think I've been searching for this all my life, and never given thought to what would happen after." His laughter died away. "Now that you mention it... I think that would be everything. I think that I would hold that satisfaction close to my chest, and thank the gods for having allowed me to achieve my dreams. At that point, it's time for my successors to take over." He gestured to his prone Master behind him, little cartoon stars hovering over his head.

"Your Master was right," Roa said, his face fallen. "You really don't live up to the stories they told about you. Here. Let me tell you what _real_ life is like, a worthy purpose for one to pursue, one that gives, rather than takes life. One that pushes you further and further so that you push your live as far as it goes so you can continue to pursue it, and once you have it, to rejoice in its possession."

"And what, pray tell, is this, Servant Assassin?"

"Simple," Roa said. "That which wraps your soul in its embrace, pulls you deeper and deeper in and never lets you go. It burns your back with the streaks of its nails, and yet you can't help but pursue it all the same. It is that which gladdens the heart of man, ignites a fire in his heart, and tames it. Iskandar... have you ever loved a woman?"

"My boy, I've loved more women than you've ever seen!" He laughed now, louder than before. "Every night I had my pick of the dozens of slavegirls brought to me by my loyal men, who showed their devotion to me by always saving the prettiest-cheeked maidens for my bed."

"You've read too much Homer, my friend. There is far more to a woman than her cheeks; there is her heart, her indomitable spirit. It is _that_ which truly makes her beautiful. If you haven't seen that, you've never loved a woman. You have only slept with them."

"I fail to see the difference, Assassin," said Iskandar. "I have caressed many, and some I still remember fondly, to this very day."

"'Many'? Therein lies the problem, Rider; the fact that you can even think of other women just shows that you've never properly loved any. If you had, your thoughts would be consumed by her every instant, and everything you would be doing would be for the sake of reuniting with her, of kissing her, tasting her flesh, and possessing her to her very soul. _That_ is love, and that is something you have never tasted; your heart was too full with wine to notice its real lack. I would pity you and offer you a chance at a second life, but I'm afraid you're not worthy; I shall have to take the Grail for myself, and win back my only love, the maiden of my heart, the Princess of the Moon."

Rider shrugged. "You're awfully narrow-minded, Assassin, but if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get. I can't deny myself the joy of combat, not after all this time. Especially not after seeing what you did to Lancer."

Roa allowed himself a smirk. "I appreciate the compliment, Rider." He stood up, one foot hanging off the iron girding overhanging the cars on the bridge below. "Shall we begin? Out of respect for your former conquests, I will be happy to let you spirit your Master away to safety."

Iskandar cracked his neck, and stood up. "Even unconscious, his spirit should witness this. He'll need it, later on." He gave a thoughtful glance back.

"Indeed! Perhaps then," the unknown voice resounded through the air, "he will know the true purpose of this life. Now." A golden thread appeared in the air above Iskandar and Roa, coiled around itself, and assumed human form. A Servant - what else could this presence be? - clad in glorious gold appeared from the midst of the cloud. "How dare the two of you mongrels intrude upon my sacred space? To lay claim to the treasures of the King is an offence punishable by death."

"Goldie..." Iskandar rolled his eyes.

"You know this guy?" Roa asked.

"For better or for worse, I suppose I do," Iskandar replied. "What has brought you here tonight? Why do you interrupt our conversation? You know we would be happy to include you, if you only wanted to join."

"I? Join the likes of you? Please," the shining Servant scoffed, his smirk assuming an air of regnal superiority. "It would be an insult to me, and entirely wasted upon you mongrels. Now, as always, it is my lot to be forced to listen to the unintelligible whinings of the rabble as they claim to actually _know_ things, when the ultimate arbiter of all truth and law stands above them, always watching, always waiting to exact heavenly judgment upon them that dare to defy his rule. And now listen! For I say unto you: Neither of you has any basis for such discussions."

"Oh, come on, Archer," said Iskandar. "You know as well as I do that I trampled upon the most distant reaches of your own petty kingdom," - Archer stiffened - "Which, at its peak, was never more than a few cities wide. You think to lecture a man who conquered all the known world - save a small patch of the East, no point in focusing on that - about the pleasures of the flesh? I assure you; no matter how excellent the women you loved in your time, I loved their descendants; and, if I've learned nothing else from this era, it's that the beauty of women only improves over the generations, like the cider pressed from the Golden Apples of the Hesperides."

Archer's anger crept forth in his words, through gritted teeth. "Perhaps, Rider. But, in all your drunken wanderings over the deserts of this world, did you ever stop and settle down in one place? To rule, as a king should? I think not. I think you were led by your puerile fantasies across the vast reaches of desert, leaving only your men to rule in your stead. You were never any sort of king, only a boy searching without for something he could only ever find within."

Iskandar stood up, and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Gilgamesh signalled to him with an outstretched arm.

"Ah, ah, ah! Quiet, fool, until your King has finished speaking and given you leave to reply. Let me at least tell you what you've been missing of the amatory arts. Let me relate to you the true nature of eroticism and love. Surely you can allow yourself that much enlightenment?"

"Say your piece," said Iskandar.

Gilgamesh smiled.

"Rider," Roa said. "You going to let him talk to you like that?"

"Trust me, Assassin," Iskandar replied. "He thinks even less of you than he does of me; at least he deigns to address me. Isn't that right, Archer?"

Gilgamesh looked down at Rider.

"As I said," continued Iskandar. "In addition, it's the least I can do to show the openheartedness of a true ruler, to let even those who insult me have the floor when it is their turn. Plus, you've not yet had to deal with him, but... he's a menace."

Roa shrugged. "Fine, whatever you say." He sat back down, straddling the curved beam overhanging the bridge. He took out his knife and twirled it between his fingers.

"Now, Rider, picture yourself - though of course you cannot, but try your best - as a king. You recline on your throne at the end of a day of ruling your kingdom, ensuring the welfare of an entire city which is an integral part of you as much as your arm or leg. At the end of the day, as your leg aches, you call one of your slaves to you. She was once a princess of, say, Lagash, but when you attacked the city to firmly bring them under your domain you took her as a prize. And you make her, once a proud future regina, caress your thighs. You watch her," Gilgamesh smiled, eyes unfocused, "and you humiliate her in the best way you know how. Tell me, Rider, is there anything better? I hope you can dimly see that the true measure of a woman is not her beauty, but her pride and how she holds herself; that it may be all the more satisfying to push her down, make her taste the dirt, until her nobility of spirit is broken and she is nothing more than an extension of yourself, a mere vessel for your love."

Rider bristled, the hears of his beard stnding on end. He sighed. "Archer, I do not know why I continue to expect more of you. You keep on disappointing me with your shortsighted cruelty. There are reasons I undertook to conquer the East, not least of which was to quell such barbarous sentiments. Seriously... how can you call yourself a civilized man, treating women that way? Even in the deepest parts of our Hellenic past we were never so uncaring; Helen was loved and admired, as was Briseis, by the most brutal of our ancient warriors."

"Fool," Archer replied, "We saw women for what they were, rather than mere pretty faces... Yet, I don't think there's any point in this anymore." He cocked his head in Roa's direction. "Shall I leave you to your fun, then?"

"Oh, are you too scared to get in the middle of a real fight, then?" Roa called from the back, a wicked grin on his face. "Still miss those soft couches and softer chicks of your obsolete era?"

Archer regarded Roa. "Mongrel, do you desire a quick death? Or shall I extend it, delighting in your yelps and viscera?"

"Either way's fine by me," Roa said. "I aim to please."

Archer spat. "Tch... Rider, I leave this one to you. It irks me and I cannot bear to look at it. Only, make sure to preserve yourself so I can later enjoy fighting you at full form." He faded back into the aureous ether from which he came, and by the time the golden shower cleared, Roa was standing in his previous position.

"So, Rider... wanna pick up where we left off when that prick interrupted us?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Rider purred deeply, and stood.

XXX

Roa lay down, left arm hanging off the side of the support straits, as his right arm held his knife over his face. He looked at it through eyes soaked with sweat, stinging. The light glinted beautifully off the blade. He turned it in his hand to watch the way it cast its reflection. He saw his own face in the blade. The smile of true joy gladdened him. He turned the knife to point at his face, and licked the point.

"God... Rider, that was great. Haven't had fun like that in years."

"Sure, anytime," Rider said, affable. "But, wouldn't you prefer a cup for your wine?"

Roa bent his neck backwards to face him. "What are you talking about, Rider? There's no better way to drink anything - wine, blood, whatever - than licking it from the tip of a blade..." He paused for a moment. "Well, maybe you wouldn't understand, I don't know. I have an... interesting past, myself." He looked back at the knife, and licked the wine off the tip. He then dipped it into a small lacquered bowl which Rider had told him contained "the best alcohol this land has to offer!" Roa, having inhabited many countries throughout his lifespans, wasn't terribly impressed, but he liked Rider enough to humor him every once in a while. "And this stuff deserves to be drunk in the best way possible."

"Heh, you're too kind," Rider chuckled. He poured himself a cup and swirled it around below his nostrils, flaring them to absorb the full scent of the wine. He sniffed loudly. "Mm, you're right, though. This modern world truly is great, if they've been able to improve on classical winemaking techniques like this. Hey, Assassin, what say you we go tour a vineyard?"

"Appreciate the offer, old man, but you and I are kinda busy nowadays, aren't we?" Roa replied. "Pretty soon we'll have to get serious about this and actually start _fighting_ people... which, I think you'll agree, is fun in its own way." Rider nodded, and Roa continued. "A man of culture. So." He stood up, wiped his wine-covered knife on the leg of his trousers. "What do you plan to do with that... precocious Master of yours? I get that you like him, but how are you going to stop his youthful impatience from getting in the way of that cold, measured "World Conquest!" you keep telling me about?" He pointed to Waver, who had started to stand up behind his Servant. Rider couldn't have noticed, Roa thought - although, the big man could've been far more aware of his surroundings than he let on. Waver had lifted a flask of glowing blue fluid high above his head, looking like he was about to throw it at Roa.

Rider put down his wine, and turned his neck to his Master. He tried to pretend he was asleep, throwing himself back into a prone position - likely afraid of another juggling session, Roa mused - but Rider's eyes widened. "Master... what are you doing?"

Rider's Master gave up his obviously futile attempt to feign unconsciousness by blowing large snot bubbles from his nose. "Rider! He! Is! Enemy!" He gesticulated wildly at Roa, who simply stood, bemused. "If you're not going to do anything about it, I will! Honestly!" He stamped his feet, almost fell off the beam, and managed to hook his arms around it. "Riderrrrrrr~! Help!"

"Such a curious boy you are," Rider said, gently lifting his Master from the beam, and seating him on his own lap. His Master was crying now, tears flowing from his eyes and mucous from his nose. Rider looked at him incredulous. "Do you not even know of the friendship that blooms on the battlefield? Why fight if you cannot meet your foes with honour and mutual respect?"

"But Riderrrrr," he sobbed, his words mixing with his mucous.

Waver felt a firm thrusting from behind. He was embraced by his Servant. Iskandar's large, Baltic hands caressed Waver's small, fragile back. Waver was of Anglo-Saxon heritage but he much more strongly identified with Welsh poets sitting in mouldy basements than the great warriors of his nation's past. The large hand was a comfort to him. His face was pressed against Iskandar's beard. It pricked him, but he enjoyed the sensation. This man was his Servant, sworn to protect him. If Iskandar felt that it was ok, then shouldn't Waver trust him? Wasn't that the bargain they had struck? Rider would, as he did in life, manage the strategy of their Holy Grail campaign, while Waver would advise as Rider's retainer. His Magus, as it were.

Waver's tears slowed, the torrent becoming a trickle, then nothing more than the sort of dried-up wadi that Rider might have stopped by in his journeys through the Middle East. Much as a wadi gives nothing in the wrong season, so too, Waver reasoned, he should not cry now. It would be unbefitting of the man he is becoming. What would Rider say, if Waver proved to be nothing more than a lacrimal pissant? No, that must be avoided at all costs. He had already lost enough face in front of his Servant, not to mention the enemy! There must be some way to turn this to his own tactical advantage, though...

Ah! Of course!

It must have been Rider's plan for him to feel this way, to break down this way! In fact, as long as he doesn't let anything slip, Rider will probably be proud of him.

So, all he needs to do is just play along. Oh, that resourceful Servant of his. Always looking out to maximize their chances of victory.

God, between us we really can get the Grail, can't we?

I bet all that crap about reincarnation and world conquest is just for show too. Make me think he's not as great as he is, so I can be even more in awe when he wins the Holy Grail War for me.

Heh.

Typical ancient Macedonian conqueror.

Waver looked up at Rider, doe-eyed. "Rider, does this mean we can trust him?"

Rider smiled. "Well, sure, boy! As much as we can trust anyone, we can trust Assassin here." He turned and gestured to Assassin to come over. Assassin sighed, walked over to the pair, leaned in close to Waver. He raised his knife to his lips, and ran his tongue over the sharp edge of the blade so that a thin trail of his own blood coated it. He held it before Waver's face. It dripped before him, red drops.

"Thirsty, my dude?"

Waver turned his face away, and nuzzled against Rider's ear. "He scares me," he whimpered.

"Me too, boy, me too," Rider whispered.

"Yeah, me too," Roa whispered.

Oh, Assassin. You think you have us wrapped around your thumb, but just you wait! My Servant and I will use you as we see fit, and when we're done, you'll find yourself with a knife in your back. Or a spatha. Whatever. A fitting end to an Assassin.

Heh.

XXX

Waver Velvet lay on his back in the room he was borrowing from the McKenzies. As he looked at the jersey he was borrowing hanging on the wall, and let his body sink into the bed he was also borrowing, he felt a quiet satisfaction. The newfound strength - which, needless to say, he was borrowing for the moment, until he could make it his own - of his Servant made everything seem so easy. Like there was no challenge left in the world.

Waver had seen what Assassin had done to Lancer. That sort of transformation was unthinkable. A Servant coming out of another Servant? What the hell? And yet the Grail seemed to allow it. The Grail was a strange object, which seemed to have strictly defined rules the one moment, and the next, allowed whatever sort of plot contrivance it deems necessary to keep the story interesting.

Waver would have almost been worried at the caprices of the golden goblet, but he realized that, no matter what, his Servant was the most superior of all, and...

_Am I really the most superior of all Masters, though? Do I deserve the King of Conquerors, Alexander himself? I stole the relic, and arranged my own transportation to Fuyuki and a place to stay. But since then, I've done absolutely nothing on my own, unaided._

He looked across the room at Rider, asleep, snoring on the ground. He was covered in empty crisp bags, with a WWII surplus helmet hanging tenuously off one of his ears, the chinstrap broken by his gigantic face.

Waver sighed. His Servant was strong enough to act like a complete idiot, and could still easily beat anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

Not that golden Servant. Archer.

Rider had told Waver that, though he couldn't be sure at this point - "Real courage requires we go ahead even when, no, _especially_ when we have no idea what lies on the other side!" he had once said - Archer's true identity was probably Gilgamesh of Uruk.

_What sort of person, what sort of Servant would Gilgamesh of Uruk be? What are his strengths, and his weaknesses? There must be something I can find, some hole I can exploit to bring him down. Even in such a supposedly perfect Servant as he, some flaws must exist._

_But how can I find out? Rider was right, it's ridiculous to look in books. If I read Gilgamesh's legends I will learn nothing, since that arrogant man I saw today, who vanished into golden sparks, was nothing like the wise king at the end of the epic. If anything he is the tyrant at its beginning, and such a tyrant could only be tamed by an Enkidu, and I..._

Waver looked down at his arms, making a fist and seeing the thin tendons stretch.

_I am certainly no Enkidu, equal to him in brawn and manliness. All I have is my intellect, and that is how I must obtain victory. I will defeat Gilgamesh on my own, somehow... or at least weaken him so I can allow my Servant the finishing blow. Hah. I can just see the look on Rider's face now, when he finds out that I, his weak, pitiable Master, brought down the King of Heroes, a Servant whom even he feared!_

_Thing is, though, I'm going to have to find a way to actually _do_ that, which is far less easy than it sounds._

Waver thought.

The idea came to him that he should, in all secrecy and caution, approach the Tohsaka manor on his own. As he dressed, careful not to wake Rider, he checked the intact Command Spells on his hand - in case, by some unfathomable chance, he should be in danger - and packed a small valise of familiars and potions, which he thought by his research into the Grail might prove effective at binding Servants.

The crystals constituting Waver's familiars twinkled in his hands as he put them in their prana-suppressing cases. Each one in a velvet-lined cube, pulsating with the life he had put into it earlier that morning. Waver's family magic, young though it was, was unique: His family's magic circuits were attuned to [Growth], as a result of the research of Armin Velvet, his grandfather. Armin had found a way to insert small amounts of prana into crystals, which would then stimulate the crystalline structure to replicate itself in fractal patterns. As the crystals grew, so did the prana contained in them. This in and of itself would not have been anything remarkable to the Mages of the Clock Tower; any second-rate Magus could create a structure that would automatically draw ambient magical energy from the surrounding atmosphere or ley lines. Armin's genius, however, was that the prana in the crystals did not come from ambient sources. Rather, it was nothing short of a method to replicate an individual Magus's Od, the personal magical energy generated by his body, and attuned to his Will and Origin.

Armin's research had won him instant acceptance into the Clock Tower, and a professorship in the Necromancy Department, unseating Lord Levi Archibald, the eighth head of the Archibald family. It was rumoured that Armin's untimely death was the result of foul play by Lord Archibald's party. Waver didn't put much stock in rumours, but even he had to admit that Archibald was a little too happy to take his old position back, no matter his protestations to the contrary in Armin's eulogy.

Waver remembered it. He remembered sitting there, a young child. A small boy in a dark suit, incensed at the loss of his family's pride, and the loss of his favourite grandfather, who used to give him miniature skeletons as toys and teach him to animate them, make them dance. He remembered Kayneth, somewhere in his early twenties, in a stiffly starched shirt standing next to his father.

When he first got into Kayneth's lecture at the Clock Tower, he hoped that Kayneth would be annoyed to see him. A reminder that the Archibald family hadn't produced anything of note since Richard Archibald I, the first Lord Archibald who created quicksilver elementals by an ingenious fusion of the magic circuits of dead Mages who had imbued themselves with attributes of water elementals, and iron elementals. This research had won the Archibalds a permanent place in the Clock Tower's hierarchy, but Waver couldn't wait to show Kayneth the power of intellect and effort over inherited status.

But now... Waver held his face in his hands. He couldn't believe his luck in having acquired Iskandar's relic and Rider, but... weren't those meant for Kayneth in the first place? Waver didn't know how to manage his Servant. Rider treated his Master like a toy, and wilfully disobeyed his direct orders! The only threat Waver could possibly hold over his head was the use of Command Seals, but Rider didn't seem to care about that either, and the truth was that Waver would never be foolish enough to spend a Seal on anything but a matter of life and death.

He was a failure. He was nothing but a dog riding on Kayneth's coattails, using Kayneth's relic to summon Kayneth's Servant, all in an attempt to humiliate him! Why did he care so much? It was so stupid. So very stupid. Why was he so stupid? What did it matter what a blowhard like Kayneth thought?

Why couldn't he just focus on his own stuff? Do his own thing, be proud of himself, be satisfied in his own accomplishments, and to hell with everyone else! That's what he should be doing!

_Fuck the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh with his self-satisfied smirk. I'll prove myself to myself, and take care of this without anyone knowing. Except maybe Rider. But only for strategic reasons. I need him to know that I am a worthy Magus, so that he will listen to me unconditionally and we can finally win this war._

Waver creeped through the thicket surrounding the Tohsaka manor. Glen and Martha were soundly asleep. Waver had made sure their evening tea had plenty of what he liked to call Magecraft's answer to Valium. He would be back well before they would wake up, so there was no need to worry on that front.

He _was_, however, quite concerned about the various traps that Tohsaka would assuredly have placed around his manor. His original plan was to let some familiars scout the territory, and to lure Gilgamesh out to investigate. He surmised that Tohsaka was too much of an aristocrat to check himself. If Tohsaka happened to send out his own minor familiars instead of his Servant, then Waver had plenty of tools to deal with those, forcing Archer out.

It was a flawless plan.

What Waver did not expect, though, was that Tohsaka should have absolutely no magical guards at all, besides a perfunctory barrier. Tohsaka's back gate was completely defenseless. Waver saw the pedestal where Tohsaka kept his focus gem, but he didn't think it was worth destroying. He figured that Gilgamesh's innate mana supply would be such that even if Tohsaka lost all his magical energy, Gilgamesh would be able to maintain independent action for quite a while before dissipating and returning to the Throne of Heroes. It would be a pain to deal with the only area on the Tohsaka estate that actually had some form of defenses.

So he avoided it completely, running, knees bent towards the back gate. As he ran, the valise strapped to his back knocked him. By the time he made it to the gate, he was pretty sure his back would be covered in purple welts come morning. He struggled and opened the immense cedar-paneled door. Every creak made him feel like he was about to die. He was sure that Gilgamesh would appear, and skewer him with some sword or spear. He might not even show his face to do it, deeming Waver unworthy to "gaze upon his visage."

Waver's heart was like cool water, flowing to his feet and making them heavy as lead. He couldn't bring himself to close the half-open door, until he realized that he was probably in more danger leaving it open. Better to close it. Hopefully they wouldn't notice him.

He closed it slowly. He thought for a moment, then decided to risk it: He took a crystalline rod from his pocket, whispered an incantation, and it illuminated his surroundings.

He couldn't believe his luck. It looked like this was the corridor leading to Tohsaka's workshop. The veins of magical energy pervading the manor all led to the door on his right. Waver wasn't a Servant, but anyone with any degree of sensitivity would be able to tell. The only question is... how to get in? He could go straight through the door, but the danger of unknown magical artifacts was too much for him. Reluctantly, he passed it by.

_Maybe I'll get Tohsaka to relinquish his artifacts and estate to me in exchange for sparing his life._

He came to a large antechamber at the end of the corridor. A window to his rear let in the quiet moonlight. He saw crystals lining the walls, large formations glowing faintly, like the stick in his own hand. But from them he sensed... not a calm feeling, like his own Od in his crystals. He sensed blood, and pain. With horror, Waver realized that the room was filled with mana drained from Tohsaka, except there was far too much for it to have been Tohsaka himself. Yet, they all felt like his, all carrying the same indefinable signature "scent."

Could he have been experimenting on innocents? Kidnapping children, runaways, illegal immigrants whom no one would miss, and literally bleeding them dry?

Waver shuddered at the thought.

This was exactly what he hated about the the Mages' Association. They had no mind for ethics or fellow human beings. They only cared for their personal honor. They were willing to sacrifice the ambitions, and even the very lives of anyone else to make sure they keep their lofty positions. Tohsaka and Kayneth were essentially the same. Kayneth might not have performed brutal experiments like this, but Waver was sure that his position as Lord El-Melloi was protected by the judicious extermination of any threats thereto.

He would have killed Waver had he known that Waver was the one who stole the relic.

In fact, he probably did know.

Waver trembled. _Will he come find me? How can I protect myself?_

_Wait. I have a Servant. My Servant is the strongest of them all, so I'll be okay. Especially once I've gotten rid of Archer. Whatever Kayneth can throw at me, I'll be fine. Then I'll make him grovel for forgiveness, and order Rider to prick his neck with his spatha until he does._

Waver allowed himself a light chuckle.

_Relax, Waver. Don't get ahead of yourself. You still need to take care of the immediate nuisance._

He fingered his pocket, where he kept the 'Servant-binders.' They were long spools of thread, on which hung long chains of crystals filled with Waver's Od. They were unassuming, and anyone who saw them would likely mistake them for simple barrier-erectors, placed around a small area to close it off from outside influence. However, Waver had split these crystals into a dipole arrangement: One end of each molecule was filled with his Od, and the other was entirely empty of any magical energy at all, even that of the World. He had tested it on some of Rider's toenail clippings, and found that because Servants are pure manifestations of magical energy, their essence could be leeched by these crystals. Servant-binders were able to suck magical energy out of a Servant, replace it with Waver's Od, and pump it back into the Servant. Like a blood transfusion where the donor had an incompatible blood type with the recipient, the mixture of Waver's Od and the World's magical energy in the Servant's body would be enough to paralyze it at the least, or utterly kill it at the most. It was an incredibly potent poison, which is why Waver had to make sure that Rider wouldn't accidentally pick it up and try to wear it, so he made sure to craft it while Rider was asleep. Rider rarely slept but when he did it was always deep... Waver had to channel some mana into Rider to wake him up every morning, at which point he would stretch out his big oafish arms and inadvertently strike Waver across the chest. God, he was such a pain...

Waver was unsure what to do. He honestly didn't expect it to be this hard to get Gilgamesh's attention.

Clearly, there was only one method remaining, though he had to be incredibly careful or risk immediate death. He wound the Servant-binder around his right fist, confident that it could neutralize anything created by a Servant, including those massive showers of swords that Gilgamesh would throw at his enemies.

He felt his Od trying to penetrate his body. He was able to stave it off for the most part, but some did leak in, and it made him feel sick. It was like having his blood taken out, grown stale in storage, then injected back into him.

He took a deep breath.

"Gilgamesh! Come out, you coward!"

_Wow, was that really me?_ Waver's throat was dry, and he was fairly sure it was cracked and bleeding in places. _It felt like someone else. Someone strong. I could get used to this feeling._

His voice echoed. Silence for a moment.

Just when Waver was about to despair, something whizzed by his head, taking some of his hair with it. He saw nothing, only felt the rush of wind as it passed him, and heard an explosion behind him. The smell of sulfur filled the air.

_Shit._

He took a deep breath.

"Is that all you've got? Can't you even _aim_ your-"

Before he could finish his taunt, several more missiles passed him. One of them tore a layer of flesh out of his right shoulder. It hurt.

The pain filled his vision. He fell to the ground, and cursed his stupidity, and his weakness. He thought to activate his Command Seals and summon Rider.

His hand wouldn't move.

_Fuckity fuck._

_The tendon! The bastard cut the tendon!_

_Well, Command Seals are off the table. Time to die, I guess. _Fuck_, why am I so incompetent? If I had just stayed home and relied on Rider, none of this would ever have happened._

He started to cry. Tears and mucous rolled down his cheeks.

Things were silent for a moment, not a sound but Waver's sobs.

"Mongrel!"

Waver couldn't stop crying. He lifted his eyes to the source of the sound, not that it helped much, clouded as they were. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, but especially from the top of the staircase before him.

"I permitted you to tread this far, on account of your insignificance. However!" The voice shook the room with sheer power. Archer was a real blowhard. Couldn't he just get this over with? "I cannot brook any insults to the office which I inhabit. It is the sacredness of the King, he who is above all, standing alone at the pinnacle of existence which is insulted here, and I am he who must punish any incursions to that sacredness. Like you, little _worm_."

Waver got the sense that Gilgamesh was enjoying the thought of crushing him under his projectile rain. Waver was enjoying the thought of Gilgamesh shutting up and crushing him already.

"I will not give you the honor of witnessing my divine form upon your death. Now, begone."

A single spear leapt towards Waver. He saw it coming, and certainly could have lifted his right arm to protect himself. _No harm in doing so, right? Hell, it might even work. But... what's the point? I screwed up everything. I deserve to die. Rider deserves a better Master. There's no way he could've won the Grail anyway, not with me weighing him down, and even if he did, I would have no right to take pride in it._

He let his arm stay to his side. He closed his eyes, and stopped crying. His vision was clear, and he accepted his demise.

The spear flew, and... though he waited, though he craved the end, Waver felt nothing.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Before him, Assassin's female form stood, a golden spear embedded in her abdomen.

_She came to save me? Why?_

She coughed, and blood spilled from her mouth.

"Mongrel!" Archer shouted from nowhere and everywhere. "How dare you stand between me and my prey?"

She chuckled. Her voice was raspy. "Sorry, Archer. This one's mine."

"Tokiomi goes too far, suggesting I lay not hand upon you."

"Leave your sadomasochistic relationship with your Master out of this, Archer," Assassin said. "Remember that you may think yourself hidden, but just because this kid can't see you doesn't mean I can't." She flicked her wrist, and straight swords with simple red hilts appeared between her knuckles. "Or would you prefer I destroyed your 'palace', and kill your Master? I'm sure I could do at least that much before you managed to off me."

"Disgusting bitch." Archer sounded threatening, but unsure. "Begone, and tell your foolish Master that I pity him for your company. Had you lived in my era we would have consigned you to the dirtiest heap of excrement we could find, a snivelling dog hiding in the shadows without the sense to know your place under the men."

"Had I lived in your era," Assassin replied, "The throne of Uruk would have been occupied by a eunuch."

Gilgamesh held his silence, and his spear inside Assassin dissolved into sunlike yellow. Assassin turned around. A wide smile, flecked with blood, filled her face.

_God, I... I never realized it before when I was watching her battle, but..._

"Ready to get out of here?"

_She's beautiful._

Waver nodded.

* * *

"So, what led you to try that?" Assassin asked.

Waver leaned on her shoulder. The smell of her blood filled his nostrils, and he walked on with her.

"I had to."

_Even now, I'm just slowing her down._

"Well, sure, but you know that's an empty phrase, right?"

Her soft hair brushed against his face.

He grew nervous, despite himself.

_Does she not realize what this is like?_

_I'm pathetic. Leaning for support on an injured person, when I'm unharmed._

"I could've done it, you know," he said.

"Oh,_ sure,_" Assassin said. "The most powerful Heroic Spirit in this, or probably _any_, Holy Grail War, and you'd kill him with a necklace?"

"It's called a 'Servant-Binder'..."

Her hand moved from his shoulder, and went into his trouser pocket.

"Hey! You can't-!"

"Can't what?"

She passed something from one hand to the other, then, as she returned one hand to his shoulder, she waved the other one in front of his face.

Sparkling points of light appeared before Waver's face.

He reached out to grab the Servant-Binder from her hand, but she pulled it out of his reach, and he lost his footing. He tripped, his left foot stumbling on the back of his right, and would have fallen if Assassin didn't hold him fast to her.

Waver sighed.

They went on.

"Oh, come on," Assassin said. "You should be glad you're still alive after that stunt you pulled, rather than sighing as if to say 'Oh man, it's such a drag, I don't even care if they let me into the apathy club'. It's not a good look for you."

"Easy for you to say," Waver grumbled. "You're strong."

"True," she mused. "I am strong."

Silence.

Waver coughed, and figured he may as well ask what had been bothering him all this time.

"So, tell me something."

"Hmm?"

The image of her male form - if that's what he was - emerging out of her came to his mind again. He felt sick.

"What sort of legend do you have, if you could have another 'you' inside of you like that?"

She said nothing. He felt even sicker. He must have offended her, or maybe he pried where he shouldn't have. Maybe she would decide that the amusement or whatever that she got from helping him wasn't worth it.

Maybe Assassin really wasn't - weren't? - as trustworthy as Rider seemed to think.

_But she's so kind._

_But just because she acts that way doesn't mean she really cares about you,_ another voice in Waver said.

_I can't argue with you,_ he replied to the other Waver. _But if she betrays me, I'll die here and now, so I may as well trust her._

_You know you're only deceiving yourself,_ his inner critic said.

_I know. But I have no choice. I think Iskandar would say the same._

Some time passed, and Assassin spoke.

"I can't tell you everything you want to know, since that would give you an advantage over me and my Master."

Waver's heart leapt. _See,_ he said to himself, _I told you!_

A reply from his soul:_ Whatever you say._

Assassin continued. "What I can tell you is this. I was tormented by the one you saw in life, and he forced me into a sort of union with him. It seems that this union superimposed itself on my soul, which then transferred to my image from the perspective of the Throne of Heroes. So he's pursued me beyond death, and now I make the most of it. Fortunately, he doesn't seem much happier about things than I am, so we're in the same boat."

She paused. Then, "Why do you ask? Isn't it enough that I saved your ass from certain death?"

Waver stammered. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

She laughed. "Did you think a 'sorry' would be enough to undo the pain that goes through me every time I think about him?"

He froze in place. Sweat covered his brow, and a momentary tug at his arm as she pulled, not realizing he had stopped. They were like a truck towing an RV, if the RV's brakes suddenly kicked in.

Assassin sighed, and looked at him. Her eyes of light blue reminded Waver of the pure liquid he used in his alchemical experiments. He admired the fluid, always trying to coax it to do what he wanted, though his attempts would always end in abject failure. "Look, I understand you didn't mean anything by it. But please, if you care at all for my feelings on the matter, or if you don't want me to hate you - and possibly rethink bringing you home in one piece, pathetic as you are - then you'll steer clear of that topic." She held his face in her hand, palm on the underside of his chin. "Do you understand? I'd hate to break your pretty face. You'd've made a cute girl."

Waver blushed, losing himself for a moment in what he chose to consider a compliment, before the pain of her hand squeezing him brought him back to himself. "Yes." He tried to nod, but couldn't fight against her grip on his face.

She relaxed. "Good," she said. She turned her back - strongly muscular, he noticed, but still slender and beautiful - to him, and began walking. "Now tell me, since I would enjoy hearing your answer. What made you attack Archer on your own? If you wanted to die you could've done it just now, while I held your fragile self in my fingers, and you would've enjoyed it far more."

Waver ran to catch up with her, and settled into a pace matching hers. "I had to. It's like you said, I'm fragile. The only thing I can do is theoretical Magecraft, and if I'm to be honest, I'm not particularly good at that. My Servant is the source of my strength, but I want something more. You know? I want to be strong on my own."

She said nothing in return, so he continued.

"I know you didn't want me to mention it, but isn't it the same for you? Don't you want your own identity, separate from that male persona or whatever he is?"

Waver was to Assassin's left and behind her, afraid of getting to close to her field of vision and angering her. She turned her head to face him, and the look in her eyes made his knees quiver. Then she smiled, without malice or bloodlust. There was only kindness in her gaze, on her lips.

Waver felt that the beauty he saw when she rescued him was transcended - or complemented? - by this new side of her.

Her hair bounced to the tempo of her feet. "You're not correct, but you're not wrong either. I'll say it's a good first try."

She turned to the road ahead of them.

"So, what I said before? I've reconsidered. Ask me what you will. But," she pointed to a Western-style house on a hill in the distance, "you've only got till we arrive at your house. Better hurry up."

She started to run.

XXX

Waver Velvet lay on his back in his room.

_That was a night._

He closed his eyes and rubbed them, trying to sort out what happened and what couldn't have happened. Only the latter was real.

_I don't think I've ever had such a terrible night. Not even after I found out I had gotten a 92 on a Necromancy exam. Oh, how I cried then. But now? I almost got myself killed, and then..._

A smile pricked up his lips, uninvited.

_She saved me._

He tossed and turned in bed, hugging his pillow to his chest. He couldn't find a comfortable position, so he just kept moving. It was as good a way as any to express what he was feeling.

_And she was great! I mean, I was so impressed by her power as a Servant! A member of the Assassin class, but by no means was she some coward consigned to the shadows._

_I wish she were my Servant._

He opened one eye and surreptitiously peeked to make sure that Iskandar was asleep. The bastard had surprised him when he got back, all like "Boy! I'm proud of you! How was she?"

Waver blushed remembering it. _As if I would ever stoop so low._

_As if she would ever... with me._

He sighed, and buried his face in the pillow.

_What am I thinking? How is this going to help me? I can't let myself get distracted like this._

A voice spoke, sounding like Waver's, but not nearly as intelligent.

_Are you actually going to pine after her? You say you want her as a Servant, but you know as well as I do that the only thing on your mind is Tantric Ritual._

"Shut up," he whispered into the pillow.

_Is that it? No, no it's not. It can't be. I don't even _like_ her._

_Since when did that make a difference,_ the other Waver interjected.

The other Waver was ignored this time. _She's aggressive, and she could've killed me at any moment. She _enjoyed_ scaring me. And when she held my face, I thought she was going to break it, it was so painful. And when she looked at me..._

_You just wanted to fall into her eyes, didn't you? Fucking sap._

As softly as he could, Waver directed his voice into the pillow. "Grrr."

_Fine, fine, I get it. Adios._

The interloper disposed of for the moment, Waver considered what he had learned. He pulled the bedsheets over his head, and took a small flashlight, pen, and a notebook out of his pocket. He wrote:

_I can't believe I had the presence of mind to ask her anything, the way I had to run to keep up with her. I think my knees are going to dislocate themselves next time they have a chance._

_Can I take a break to see an orthopaedist? Attach a white flag to my ambulette? Maybe the other Masters will be nice enough to wait._

_Or maybe not._

_So. It seems I was wrong about Tohsaka's crystals. It turns out they're something else entirely. Ciel - that's her name, Assassin's, so heavenly - doesn't quite know herself, but there's no evidence of anything so untoward at the Tohsaka manor. I don't entirely know how she knows this, but I'm going to guess she's been using her Assassin class skills to monitor the other Masters, to the extent she knows who and where they are; and it's not hard to find the respective headquarters of the Three Great Families of the Grail._

_On the subject of Ciel's male half: I can't bear to repeat here what I learned of her past life, but suffice it to say that I understand as well as any observer could why she feels the way she does. I wouldn't wish such hardships on my worst enemy, let alone a sweet soul like hers. How he emerges from her... She couldn't go into details, but based on what she said, and my own limited understanding of the Grail, he emerges from her when she dies. He's kind of like a backup, or a dueling second; and she can call him forth when she wants to, but she has to kill herself - or force her body to the edge of death, a line it cannot cross - in order to call him forth._

_His vampirism allows him to sustain himself on magical energy he absorbs from others, so he is, in effect, completely independent of her. A parasite, living inside her, since if not for her there was no way he could possibly have been returned to the bounds of the Human Order. He did not merit inclusion in the Throne of Heroes on his own merit, being forced to ride upon her coattails instead._

_I asked her what would happen if her male half - Roa, she called him - were killed while he was outside of her. She didn't answer, and I don't think she knows for sure, but I wonder if that would kill her entirely._

He crossed out the last sentence.

_Be that as it may, she is probably the most anomalous Servant ever to be summoned to a Holy Grail War. I'm going to need to keep track of her, since she will definitely give me a lot of insight into the Grail's workings. My only other avenue for that knowledge would be to speak to the heads of the Three Families. That would be the ideal, but being that they've all got Servants in this War, and are trying to kill me, that probably won't be very easy._

_Unless they kidnap me and tell me everything as I hang above a vat of anthropophagic acid._

_That, however, has its own drawbacks._

_Back on topic._

_It was ridiculous of me to think that I could make a contract with Ciel, but I believe that an alliance would be prudent. Tomorrow I should talk to Rider, explain to him why this makes sense. He can be pretty stubborn sometimes. Hard to believe this big oaf used to rule the known world._

_Ciel didn't tell me much about her Master, but he can't be that bad. Not if he summoned her. Servants were supposed to have some psychic similarities to the Masters who summoned them, right? He must be reasonable._

Waver stopped writing. He closed the book, switched off the flashlight, and capped his pen. He put them in his pillowcase, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep.

_Hmm. If Servants resemble their Masters, then what does that say about me and Rider?_

_Oh, it doesn't matter. It wasn't my relic anyway._

Sleep took him. As Waver pored over books written in Demotic German, the language of his innermost dream-thoughts, the bedroom was still.

XXX

_He's learning more every day, isn't he? Love, war, each in its time._

_He'll surpass me yet._

Rider's heart stilled. The waves of Okeanos led him to tranquility, the realm of Hypnos and Morpheus.

_I hope he doesn't realize I lent him some of my magical energy to repair his arm._

_The boy would never forgive me._

* * *

Hey y'all. Hope you liked it.

So, for this chapter I started with the idea of Roa talking to Iskandar and Gil about women, because... I suppose I felt like some fluff. Waver's bit is more character-development than strict fluff, perhaps.

So... irl updates, irl updates.

As is traditional with chapter notes to this fic, it is time for me to tell y'all about my reading and such since the last chapter was uploaded. Let us begin.

I read _Pnin_, by Nabokov (a very funny, and poignant book. Interesting for its depiction of academia in the '50s. Definitely worth comparing then and now), _Geometry of Special Relativity_, by Dray (a book which is at the same time terribly interesting as well as hard to understand. It's short and well-written, but I can't say for sure that I understood more than 5% or so. But what a great 5%!).

In addition, I read _Six of Crows_, by Leigh Bardugo. I'm glad I did, since it's been a _very_ long time since I've read a YA book, and this was an excellent one to rekindle my lost love for the genre. Its sequel, _Crooked Kingdom_, waits on my dresser.

I love Nina. Nina is great.

Ciel's characterization owes a fair bit to her.

On the musical side of things, I've been listening to early Fallout Boy and Panic at the Disco. There is no better Panic song title than "Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off," and no better Panic video than "Build God, then we'll talk".

Fallout Boy is sublime, and I have a special pleasure when I can actually make out what their lyrics are saying without looking it up.

Hrrrrrmmm what else what else... It's terribly hot out. This would be a bigger problem if I had to go outside, but the air conditioning situation indoors is Less-Than-Perfect(tm).

Time to drink like a fish.

See all you lovely people next time.


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